Meant to Be
by MeantToBe4Evermore
Summary: How did Charles and Erik become involved in the war against the Sentinels? It started with a love affair, which ended up re-igniting the friendship of two men, thought to be enemies. When Logan goes back in time, he realizes that the way to unite them under a common cause is to ignite this love affair. The problem? Charles doesn't want his daughter in love with the enemy's son.
1. Intro

**Warning(s):** Insinuated Suicide

* * *

"Oh, dear God." Storm looked to be on the verge of tears as she stared down at the mess that was splayed over the front steps of the school.

Peter knelt on the top step, a bloody bundle curled in his trembling arms. Upon closer inspection, the head of dark, messy red curls and the half-lidded light blue eyes made it impossible to deny the identity of the body. Evangeline Xavier-Maximoff, only child of Professor Xavier. There was a hole the size of one of Beast's fists going through the side of her belly, clean through and through.

A wound of that size and nature could only be caused by one of the Sentinels. By the pallor of her skin and the obvious loss of blood, Storm could tell that she had probably been dead for some time. Peter was rocking back and forth on his heels, holding her tightly to him, his lithe body wracked with sobs. Tentatively, Storm attempted to reach for him - but he wrenched his body away so forcefully they both almost tumbled down the stairs.

"Don't!" He almost screamed, but then forced himself to quiet down. He slowly started to rock Evangeline's body back and forth, brushing hair back from her face. "Please... don't." He sniffled, tears rolling off his cheeks and dripping onto the body below him. "Why are you just standing there? Get help!"

"Peter, she's... she's _gone_." She could only imagine the pain that must be racing through him, having held the same woman in his arms for forty years, and now being forced to face the fact that she had met her final rest there. "She's _dead_, Peter."

Peter simply laughed. It was distant and broken. "She _can't_ be dead. She p-promised... f-f-forever. I said that I-I'd _die_ before I-I l-let anything h-hurt her."

"Peter... this _isn't_ your fault." Storm said firmly, all the while realizing that everything she said was going straight over Peter's head. "The Sentinels... this war... _none_ of it is your fault, or in your control, or anything like that."

"I... I s-should have b-been f-faster." He sobbed, cradling her closer. She moved brokenly in his arms, blood smearing on his outfit.

Storm shook her head. "Nothing about this is your fault."

"I can't... n-not without her..." another sob wracked his body, and in that moment he seemed impossibly frail. "I can't live without her! She... oh God, it was n-never supposed to be like this..." there was blood everywhere, but Peter did not seem to care. He continued to slowly rock back and forth, 'soothing' Evangeline.

He told her, in-between fits of near hyperventilation, what had happened. They'd been staying at the hide-out in Moscow, gaining valuable Intel on the fight against the Sentinels, which they would then bring back to the school and report to Professor Xavier and Magneto. The attack had come, and when they'd attempted to escape through one of the portals, a Sentinel had come through the other side and stabbed Evangeline through the stomach.

He'd managed to grab her before she collapsed, and they'd both fallen through and landed here. They'd been here for almost fifteen minutes before Storm arrived, but Storm was almost certain that Evangeline had died almost instantly. Peter was practically inconsolable, and who wouldn't be, having been two seconds too late in a matter of life and death? The sobs did not subside until eventually, a blank look came over his face. It unsettled Storm.

"Peter?" She asked, but he wasn't listening. He was too far gone. "Peter, talk to me."

Peter slowly rose to his feet, shifting Evangeline gently in his arms. "I can't do this. N-Not without her."

It didn't take long to realize what he was planning to do. Storm reached out for him, barely grazing his shoulder before he was off. "Peter!"

An hour later, Peter Maximoff was dead.


	2. Chapter 1: Back in Time

When Storm entered Professor Xavier's office, she was still terribly shaken by what had transpired mere moments before. She had a terrible inkling that she knew what it was that Peter planned to do, but had no way of finding him or helping him to see reason. She'd meant to go to Professor Xavier and tell him what happened - breaking the news as gently as she possibly could. However, what she saw upon entering gave her pause, and for awhile she simply stood there in the broken silence.

The back of Charles' wheelchair was toward the door, but there was an undeniable tremor in his shoulders. An ornate, cherry picture frame rested in his left hand, and if she were not mistaken, it was the frame which held Evangeline and Peter's wedding photo. They'd been married in October of '81, right when the leaves had begun to change. Storm had seen the photo once or twice before. Evangeline had certainly been a marvel in her hand-embroidered wedding gown.

"I know what you've come to tell me, Ororo." The calmness of his voice unsettled her, but she did not comment. Slowly, the chair turned around, and he faced her with slightly red-rimmed eyes. "Peter's distress was like a knife through my chest. When it ended so inexplicably... I knew."

Gently, he placed the picture frame back on his desk, angled just so behind three smaller frames, each displaying the bright smiles of one of his grandchildren. Storm, wide-eyed, appeared as if someone had just struck her across the face. "I was just with him... I could have -,"

"You mustn't think like that." Charles immediately cut her off. "You couldn't have been certain as to his intentions, that's not your mutation." He stated simply.

She hurriedly sucked in a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. "Then... then you know how she died."

Charles nodded, stiff and sure. "I know quite a bit more than I'd like to, I'm afraid." He clasped his hands together tightly, screwing his eyes shut. "When I felt Peter's distress, I investigated. It only took some gentle probing to find everything replaying like a scene from a horror movie inside of his head."

There were no words to describe the pain etched onto Charles' face. Storm had seen the effect such a sight had had on the man that had _been_ there, but to watch it happen through someone else's eyes? To feel the agony, the anger, the hurt, as they tore themselves apart inside for something completely out of their control? It was as if Charles had to bear the burden of two tragedies instead of one. This was one blow that she was not sure he could recover from.

He looked to be struggling on the brink of a full breakdown, and Storm struggled with finding a way to hold him back from tumbling over the edge. That's when he found the strength to continue. "This war... it's futile. There have been too many casualties on both sides. If it continues this way... it will mean total extermination."

"How are we supposed to end a war when the enemy can transform itself in order to render our mutations useless?" She asked, a tiny bit skeptical.

"My Evvie was quite the fan of 20th Century literature, you know." He seemed to be swept up by a distant memory, but quickly returned to himself. "There was a book written by a famous author of the Lost Generation. His name was F. Scott Fitzgerald. The book focused on a character who was dead-set on repeating the past."

Storm recognized the book almost immediately. It was _The Great Gatsby_, and it focused on Jay Gatz, whose once pure dream turned sour as he fell for the 'golden girl' and thought he could win her over with materialistic gains, not realizing that she'd moved on in the five years they'd been apart. "Yes, I'm familiar with it."

"The ability to repeat the past is well within our grasp." Charles said firmly. "To repeat the past, and to change it to force a better future."

"Charles, you're not... she's never... we're talking _fifty_ _years_..." but none of this seemed to be breaking through to the broken man. "What if it doesn't work?"

But Charles wouldn't even consider it. "We have no other options. Mutants are on the brink of extinction, as are our few allies. If we sit by and do nothing, we will all fall. Now is not the time to sit idly by while the decision of life and death is made for us. Now it is time for _action_. And here is what we must do..."

* * *

The ride in the jet was painfully silent. Charles had the picture clutched tightly in his hand, and occasionally, his forefinger would subconsciously stroke the filmy surface. Erik was staring out the window, pained eyes focused on the soft glimmer of stars against the black velvet sky. They'd both lost a child today: one from a freak accident, the other from grief. Both were struggling silently under the heavy burden that was this last ditch effort to save the future, and perhaps their children as well.

Logan and Storm sat across from one another, a considerable distance from Erik and Charles. Logan had been out on a retrieval mission when Peter and Evangeline and fallen onto the doorstep, and Storm had had the painful task of filling him in on every gruesome detail. It would seem as if the deaths of two more of their fellow comrades, who were among the strongest of mutants left, had finally been the straw that broke the camel's back.

It seemed like an eternity until they arrived at the hide-out. Bishop was the first to spot them, and quickly alerted the others. News of Evangeline and Peter's deaths had been kept on a need-to-know basis - all the small group knew was that this meeting was of the utmost importance. With so many of their friends and allies gone, there was never any doubt that they'd welcome them with open arms. They entered into the stone cut-out that served as the meeting room, to be greeted by Bobby.

"We saw what happened. I mean, well..." he rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure how to continue, "we saw her fall. We're _so_ sorry. We never meant for her to get injured." 'Injured' had to be the understatement of the century. To be gouged through and through was not 'injured'._  
_

Charles smiled softly, shakily. Erik couldn't even look at him. "I know. None of this is your fault."

They continued on, now coming to the place where Kitty waited. They took their places around the stone slab, which acted as a bed of sorts when Kitty sent Bishop's consciousness back in time. She explained how she sent him back in time a few days to warn them about a Sentinel attack, so that they would be able to escape before things got too bad. Last time had been a little too close for comfort. Last time had cost them Evangeline and Peter.

"We have a situation." Charles explained. "The idea for the Sentinels came from Dr. Trask in the early seventies. The idea was originally disregarded as mutants were considered citizens, but after Mystique assassinated Trask, they captured her and created the Sentinels of today using her DNA."

Kitty looked at Charles uncertainly. "What exactly are we proposing here?"

"We need to go back in time and stop Mystique from assassinating Trask, therefore preventing the government from getting their hands on her DNA and evolving the Sentinels into the killing machines that they've become today." He continued.

"Professor..." Kitty trailed off, "I've only sent people back a few days, weeks at the most. We're... We're talking about _fifty years_." She looked between the four of them. "The strain... it will _destroy_ you. I can't do it... not in good conscience."

Images flashed behind Logan's eyes - the wedding photo, the three children whose mother and father would never be coming home. It was then that he stepped forward, offering, "What if... what if the one you send back can put himself back together as fast as he's broken apart?"

"Logan..." Storm trailed off, but he raised a hand, silencing her.

After some period of hesitation, Kitty motioned for Logan to take his position on the stone slab. She explained to him the dangers of the situation, including the need for him to remain calm throughout - if he became agitated or excited at any point during the mission, she might lose his consciousness between the past and present. Just before she was about to begin, however, Charles made his way over to Logan and handed him something.

"You need to take this with you. It will be of great assistance when you find me." Charles said. "I was a very different man, then. You'll have to lead me, guide me, be patient with me." He patted the object, which he had stuffed into the chest pocket of Logan's uniform. "And if all else fails, remember: love conquers all."

"You'll need me as well. Both of us will need to work together, at a time when we couldn't have been further apart." Erik said. It was the first thing he'd said since Charles broke the news to him. "And, if all else fails... love."

Logan looked between the two of them, confused. "Who the hell am I supposed to get to fall in love? I'm not some fucking matchmaker!"

Charles and Erik shared a glance, then, "Two people that could barely stand to share the same air supply." Charles answered.

"I still don't..." Logan trailed off.

Charles laughed wryly, brokenly. "She'll definitely take some convincing. In 1973, she was still convinced that she was going to marry _Hank_." This caused a universal round of laughter, as if this was an incredibly ludicrous idea.

"And he was head over heels for Crystal." He said with some measure of disgust, as if he had nothing but distaste for this girl. "Please, getting rid of that skank will be an added bonus. Once she's out of the way, things will run much more smoothly."

"Who the hell are you guys talking about?" Logan pressed.

Erik was the one who answered this time around, "Oh, you'll see. But trust me when I say that it may be your only option. It won't win you any friends, but it was bound to happen eventually, so why not trigger it sooner rather than later?"

Before he could ask again, Kitty lowered him down onto the bed and placed a hand on either side of his head. She warned him that it would sting a little, before beginning - 'sting' turned out to be a bit of an understatement. Pain charged through his body and he lurched forward, almost breaking out of her hold. Easing him back down, he eventually stilled. Total silence filled the room as Logan slipped back into the past.

Erik's hand fell heavily on Charles' shoulder, and he offered, "He's going to fix this. You'll have your daughter back. Nyx, Apolline, and Amadeo will have their mother back." But did he really believe that? Did he really believe that everything could be fixed by the actions of one man?

They _had_ to believe it. To believe anything else would to be accepting defeat when defeat simply wasn't an option.

"And you'll have your son back." Charles squeezed his eyes closed. "I just hope he knows what he's walking into."


	3. Chapter 2: Evangeline's Mutation

**1973**

Blinding rays of sunlight pierced through the thin, gauzy curtains, unceremoniously calling Logan back from the depths of unconsciousness. Blearily, he blinked his swollen eyes open and tried to sit up, only to realize that a thin, undeniably female arm was draped tightly over his waist - his naked waist. What the hell? Gently peeling the arm off of him, he tossed the blankets back and climbed off of the bed. He felt that he _knew_ this place... but the memory was from a lifetime ago.

Walking over to the window, he parted the curtains slightly. One look was all it took to assure him that it had been a success. He'd been sent back to 1973. Reaching for his pants - he smirked slightly, recognizing the tattered pair of bell-bottoms - he noticed something sticking out of the back pocket. He pulled it out and carefully unraveled it, feeling a dumb sense of awe slowly wash over him as he realized what it was. It was Evangeline and Peter's wedding photo... taken in '81.

Was this what Charles had slipped into the pocket of his uniform before Kitty sent him back in time? It had to be. But what use would it be to him? He could just imagine going up to a sixteen-year-old Peter, slamming the photo down on his bureau, and proclaiming that he had come from the future to hook him up with his future bride. Yeah, that was a grand old plan. About as good as whacking a hornet's nest with a titanium bat.

It was about that time that the door burst open and three of the boss' goons spilled in. "What the hell? You're supposed to be protecting the boss' daughter, not sleeping with her!" The boss' daughter took that as her cue to leave, hurriedly stuffing her feet into shoes and covering herself with a blanket.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... I didn't sleep with her. Well, I mean, I _did_, but not _now_." The goons looked at him as if he were four quarters short of a dollar. He sighed, raising his hands in defeat. "Would you believe me if I said that... I come from the future?"

"Real funny, hot-shot. Now, put your hands where I can see them before I blow your fucking brains out." Within seconds, three guns were trained on his forehead, with three trigger-happy fingers ready to deliver on that promise.

"I really wouldn't do that, if I were you." Logan warned nonchalantly. "'Cause, if you do, you three are the ones that are gonna end up in the hospital."

"You're real cocky for a dead man, you know that? I think it's about time someone taught you some manners."

The gunshots fell like rain, each bullet tearing through him like a white-hot poker. After the sixth, he lost count of how many of the ones that had been fired met their mark. He stumbled backward, back colliding with the window roughly, breath coming in short, heavy puffs as his body fought to repel the intruders. Finally, after several tense moments, the bullets fell to the floor with a soft _plink_, followed by a soft _hiss_ as his flesh slowly came back together.

The men looked appropriately horrified, and one was shaking so badly, he ended up dropping his gun onto the ground. It triggered, sending a bullet flying through the wall. "Holy _shit_, man! What the fuck _are_ you?"

"Right now?" He never thought that he would miss the metal claws until he found himself staring down at their prehistoric (and infinitely more painful) predecessor. "Right now, I'm your worst nightmare."

It was amazing how fear could bring even the toughest of men to their knees. Within moments, he had neutralized the situation, leaving two of the men with severe injuries which would undoubtedly require hospitalization, and simply rendering the other unconscious. Taking the car keys off of the unconscious man, he stuffed them into the pocket of his bell-bottoms and finished dressing himself. On the way back out the door, he nudged the unconscious man with the toe of his boot.

"Thanks for the ride, asshole." He slid his sunglasses down over his eyes, inspecting the carnage that he was leaving behind. "Oh, and tell the boss that I quit." Now that he had means of transportation, his first stop was the Xavier School.

* * *

He didn't know what he was expecting to find, but this _certainly_ wasn't it. The school was decrepit and in an awful state of disrepair, nothing like the school that Logan remembered. Distantly, he recalled Professor Xavier mentioning how he had been a different man in the 70s - but surely, things couldn't have changed _this_ drastically, right? Cutting the engine, he climbed out of the car and slowly made his way up to the door. Perhaps this was going to be harder than he originally suspected.

He knocked once. Several minutes passed, and then he knocked again. It was around when he prepared to knock for the third time that the door opened slightly, revealing a distinctly familiar face. "Can I help you?"

"_Hank?!"_ His surprise was practically palpable, and the man in question looked over him uncertainly.

"Um, yes, that's me. Do I... know you?" He seemed wary and confused, but quickly shook it off. "Actually, don't answer that. Look, sir, this is private property, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave -," just when he tried to shut the door in Logan's face, Logan shoved it open and stepped inside.

"This place certainly has gone to hell, hasn't it." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking around. Hank was practically snarling behind him, but he waved it off, "Look, buddy, we're gonna be real good friends in the future. So just chill-out, okay? I'm here to see the professor."

"There's no professor here." He answered immediately, before grabbing Logan's arm and attempting to show him to the door.

Logan wrenched free, shoving him a little harder than necessary. His back hit a table, knocking it over. "There's no mistake. He's the one that sent me, after all."

All of a sudden, blinding pain cut through his shoulder, and the world seemed to flip upside-down. The chandelier above his head went by in a brilliant gold blur, and then he was down, each step digging into his spine as Beast used him as a human snowboard. He groaned as he hit the floor, barely having enough time to recoup from the nasty attack before the blue mutant picked him up like a rag-doll, tossing him clear across the main room just as easily.

So, perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to instigate a fight with Beast. Logan felt himself gain air again, but this time, everything came to a total standstill. Dangling over a foot above Beast's head, with Beast's mighty fist curled dangerously around his neck, he heard a diluted scream. It was like his entire body was submerged under water, and even as he feebly attempted to loose Beast's grip, he knew that it, ultimately, had to be the animal's decision.

"Hank!" There was that scream again. The hand holding him released almost instantly, and he fell to the wooden floor in a heap of messy limbs and tattered clothes.

"Evvie..." Logan rolled over onto his side, coughing viciously. From the corner of his eye, he could see an overturned laundry basket and two long, thin legs, which were trembling so badly that the knees were knocking together. "Evvie, please... it's not what it looks like."

"Oh, so you _weren't_ about to _kill_ him? Because, last time I checked, throwing someone around like some sort of human rag-doll isn't the 'normal' way of asking to be friends!" Logan could smell the saltiness of tears, and knew that she was crying.

"Evvie..." Hank tried again, but the teen wasn't listening to him.

"Are you okay, sir?" He was sitting up straight now, and caught a glimpse of two hands concealed in thick, black leather motorcycle gloves. A hardened shell of what looked to be black plastic followed the lines of the bones in her fingers. "Do you need a hand?" There was only one way to be certain of their purpose, however.

"I think I'm -," he broke off with a sharp grunt as he sat forward and felt along his back, his hand coming in contact with a sharp glass shard to the left of his spine. _  
_

"Oh my God." Light blue eyes blew wide as she inspected the damage. "Oh crap... um... Hank, help me get him to the sitting room." Hank opened his mouth to object, but Evvie cut him off. "Do you really want Dad to come down and find a dead body in the foyer?"

They fought the entire way to the sitting room. Distantly, Logan recalled Professor Xavier mentioning Evangeline's little crush on Hank, and almost laughed at the idea of him seeing the two of them right then. He held back, however, reminding himself that one wrong move would ruin his ruse and crush any chance he had at winning over Evvie's trust. Hank would eventually come around - Logan didn't doubt that. But Logan had known Evvie long enough to know that her trust was not easily won... or kept.

"Lower him down onto the couch and take off his jacket and shirt." Hank did as he was instructed, albeit a tad hesitantly. "This might sting just a little, but you'll feel better in no time. Promise." She smiled, and Logan's stomach twisted into knots. Even at sixteen, she still had that affect on people.

"You're not really going to... are you?" Hank didn't seem too impressed.

"Well, you already turned into a giant blue monster in front of him - if that didn't freak him the fuck out, I honestly don't know what will." She replied smartly.

Hank was noticeably bothered by this scalding remark, but didn't say anything. Carefully, with the precision of a surgeon about to preform brain surgery, she removed the gloves and climbed behind Logan on the couch, slipping one knee on either side of him. And then, grabbing hold of the glass shard with one hand, she pressed the skin together with the other. It mended almost instantly. Once finished, the shard fell from her hand, forgotten.

It really was her.

* * *

"He wasn't lying when he said that there is no professor here. There hasn't been one for a very long time." Evvie and Hank had, by this time, resolved their differences and were back on the same page. "My father is, for lack of a better term, 'broken'."

"Broken?" Logan asked.

Evvie and Hank shared a look, before Hank stepped up and clarified. He explained that the school had been doing well, up until the Vietnam War. Then, most of the teachers and the older male students had been drafted, and they'd been left with nothing. He'd turned to Hank's formula to ease the pain, but took too much and had sacrificed any power he might have once had for the ability to walk. Evvie looked to be on the verge of tears.

"He's destroying himself." She said tearfully. "I mean... I understand the hysteria. Mutants have been on-edge ever since Trask first proposed the idea of Sentinels to Congress. That's why I kind of... lost it when I saw Hank attacking you. There's no way to tell who is for us or against us anymore."

Logan frowned. "How can you tell that I'm not the foe?" And she laughed, as if the very idea was unthinkable.

"Anything that could survive that vicious of a thrashing from Beast _can't_ be human." She patted Hank on the shoulder comfortingly. "Besides, my mutation allows me to stimulate brain signals by physical contact, thus allowing me to speed up or slow down bodily functions - like healing. I could tell that something was... off."

"Off?" It was fascinating, hearing it straight from the horse's mouth. The Evangeline that he knew _rarely_ talked about her mutation.

"You're a regenerator. This allowed you to survive Hank's thrashing, and the gunshots you endured earlier," here, she smirked, "I could feel some minor residual damage that hadn't yet healed. Don't worry, I took care of it for you." A shrug, "The gash would have healed itself, but your body couldn't expel the glass shard."

"That's a dangerous ability to be parading around. You've only just met me. How do you know you can trust me?" Logan asked.

"Only a few people know about my father here, and there's even less who would dare come see him now. It's too dangerous." She said. "That's how."

Evvie had regained the laundry and was refolding it, sorting out the articles that would need to be rewashed. She was seated on the couch beside Hank, opposite Logan. Thick red curls lay idly on her shoulders, held back by a black barrette. It was almost hard to look at her, when the image that Storm had described was still prevalent in his mind. Here, she was so full of life, but in present day, she'd soon be six-feet-under. Present day, a father had lost his little girl.

"But the real question I should be asking is: what exactly is it that you want with my father?" She cocked her head to the side, snapping the wrinkles out of a ruffled white blouse.

Logan sighed. Time for the moment of truth, where they would think that he's an absolute loon. "Actually, your father sent me. From the future."

Evvie paused, slowly lowering the shirt to her lap. "You mean... like time travel?" Wait for it... "Cool!"

Hank rolled his eyes. "She watched a little too much _Star Trek_ when she was little." But his tone was more fond than condescending.

"Well... I wasn't expecting that." But it was so much better than what he _had_ been expecting, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Anyway... in the future, these creatures, called Sentinels, take over and kill off all the mutants and anyone who dares help them. The idea was passed by the president after the assassination of Trask in 1973."

He filled in the rest of the details to the best of his ability. How Trask had been taking mutants who were serving in the military and performing experiments on them to further his research for the Sentinels, how Mystique had discovered his plot and had assassinated him at the World Peace Accords in Paris, how they had captured Mystique and used her DNA to morph the Sentinels into the mutating creatures they'd eventually become fifty years in the future.

Both listened intently, studying his features as he spoke, trying to detect any hint of a lie. It soon became obvious that a story like this was too out of left field to be made up. Placing the last article of clothing into the hamper, Evvie rose off of the couch, brushing the wrinkles out of her mini dress. The black and white photos that would one day rest on Professor Xavier's desk certainly did not do her justice.

Evvie placed her hands on her hips. "You say that you need my Dad and Erik to work together to stop Mystique from killing Trask, so that you can save countless lives in the future?" Logan nodded. "Alright then, let's go to see the Professor."


	4. Chapter 3: The Clunker

Logan followed closely behind Evvie and Hank as the took the main staircase and then turned right, heading up a seemingly endless flight of stairs to the professor's study. Along the way, they passed numerous dormitories, most of which with the door ajar - upon looking inside, they'd been totally cleaned out, save for a single twin mattress with an iron bed frame and a simple oak dresser, drawers pulled out and empty.

At one point, Evvie noticed him staring into one of the dorms, and offered him a weak smile. Finally, they reached a fork in the hallway, and turned to the left. There was only one room at this end of the hall. The door was shut tight, but shuffling and soft, hurried curses on the other side gave away the person tucked away within. Evvie and Hank shared a look, before the red-haired teen sucked in a deep breath and knocked.

"What the - Hank, I thought I gave you explicit instructions to only bother me in the case of an extreme emergency? Last time I checked, Evangeline is fine and the house isn't -,"

He cut off as the door slowly opened, revealing the three visitors, with Evvie at the front, shuffling from side to side awkwardly. "Daddy?"

The tumbler in his hand connected viciously with the table, ice chips spilling over the lip. "Evvie? Evvie, baby, what is it?" Quickly, he made his way over to her, cupping her cheek in one shaky hand. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No. I'm not hurt." She dismissed the idea immediately. "I, um... I have someone here who wishes to talk to you."

Charles peered behind her, eyes catching Logan's momentarily. He frowned. "I'm not taking visitors."

Now, it was Hank's turn to step forward. "I don't think that you understand, Charles. This man... he has time sensitive information about the future of the Sentinels. It... It has to do with Raven."

Charles' eyes slowly clouded with pain, the emotion swirling like dark ink in his light blue eyes. For several tense moments, he was silent. Then, he opened the door a little wider and stepped aside, "Come in."

Logan was the last one inside, following closely behind Evvie and Hank. Upon entering, it was immediately evident that this was a far cry from the office that Logan was used to. Boxes stretched on as far as the eye could see, overflowing with tattered books focusing on every subject imaginable. Bookshelves stood on their last leg, and a once sturdy oak desk was covered in a nasty sheet of dust. Evvie looked around, disgusted, before finally taking a seat on one of the boxes.

Charles leaned up against the desk, which looked like it was the sturdiest object in the room. "Well, I'm a busy man, so let's cut to the chase." Evvie rolled her eyes, the look on her face speaking for her. Wallowing in self-pity wasn't 'busy' at all. "What do you have to tell me about Raven and the Sentinels?"

Logan sighed. "I guess that you could say that I come from a 'dystopian' future. I only know what I was briefed on, and honestly, it isn't much. But I _do_ know that Mystique is planning to kill Trask at the World Peace Summit in Paris - and they will take her DNA and use it to perfect the plan for the Sentinels."

But Charles wasn't convinced. "You must be mistaken. The Raven that I know -,"

Hank cut him off. "You know as well as we do that she's different know. She's not the Raven you grew up with... not anymore."

" - she wouldn't kill. It's not in her." Charles finished seamlessly, as if he'd never been interrupted.

"Look, I know that all of this is totally wacky, and you really have no reason to believe me... but I come from a future where I've had to watch too many friends die... watch too many friends be sacrificed to the Sentinels... and if there's something in my power that can be done to stop it, you know damn well I'll do it." He said.

Charles looked him over once, before frowning, "Convince me."

Several tense seconds passed. Evangeline and Hank stared at him uncertainly, while Charles simply sat, arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile on his face. Finally, "I know that you got your telepathy at nine, and thought that you were going crazy. It wasn't until you were twelve that you realized the voices weren't in your head."

Charles, who had been reaching for his near-empty tumbler, paused. "I never told anyone that." He confessed softly.

"You _will_. In the future." Logan assured.

Evangeline watched as several emotions flickered across her father's face. He wore a similar expression to the one that surfaced when the serum that took away his mutation and gave him back his ability to walk wore off. She was fairly certain that that panicked trembling as his body collapsed to the ground would be forever ingrained into her mind. And then, he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a long swig.

When he finally put it down, he carefully wiped his mouth off onto the back of his hand. "Suppose that I say I _do_ believe you." Each word was carefully enunciated, considering. "She left me a long time ago. I would have no influence over her."

Logan stared at the broken man, for the first time seeing him as the 'broken' man that Evvie had earlier described. "Yeah, about that..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's gonna take you and Erik working together as a team to make this work."

"Erik?" The drunken professor raised an eyebrow. "Even if I were to be willing to work alongside him... it'd be impossible."

"Daddy." Evvie gracefully slid off of the box, brushing some dust off of her dress. "I don't think we have a choice anymore."

"No, I mean it'd _literally_ be impossible." Logan seemed confused, and Charles smirked. "Oh, did he neglect to tell you exactly _where_ he was?" Still nothing, so he elaborated further. "Being held in a glass chamber below the Pentagon, for killing the President."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... he _assassinated_ JFK?" That would have been a helpful tidbit to know.

"Why else do you think the bullet curved like that?" Hank supplied smartly. "Erik's always had a way with guns."

Charles emptied the glass in one final swallow, before slamming it down onto the table. "So, are you still in?"

* * *

It wasn't until they arrived at the car dealership that he started to think (more like worry... incessantly) about Apolline. He and the young mutant had been dating for scarcely two months before the Sentinels first stormed in. After the first 'official' Sentinel attack (which was more like the third, but who was counting?) they'd broken things off... but he'd unintentionally developed an attachment to the young girl, the likes of which hadn't even been formed with Jean.

Maybe he loved her. Was that such a ludicrous concept? He'd never admit it out loud - he'd been hurt one too many times by those he thought that he loved, and a few that he really had (namely Jean) - but she meant something to him. And the idea that her very existence lay in his hands... it was rather intimidating. And sitting beside the sixteen-year-old version of her mother in the car, knowing that, bringing her along, he was risking her life? The stakes had never been higher.

There was a rental car joint around back, and after careful selection, he ended up selecting a beaten down station wagon that looked to be held together with bubble-gum and paper clips. The man was hesitant to hand it over - said that the engine was finicky, and the battery was bound to up and die any minute now. Logan assured him that they had a girl that could handle that, which earned him an uncertain look. In the end, he got fifty percent off and the address of the local hospital.

If looks could kill, Charles would've massacred Logan. "What the hell? I hand over my wallet, expecting you to come back with a halfway decent car, and what you do? Bring back _this_! Is that even street legal?"

"Yep. Just barely, but it is. Its a real fixer-upper." He tapped the hood, and the exhaust pipe gave out a thick plume of ugly black smoke. He had his reasons, though. Turning to Evvie, he said, "I have a really weird question for you."

"I'm pretty sure nothing is going to surprise me after claiming that you come from the future." She eyed the fixer-upper with distaste.

"You wouldn't happen to own a pair of daisy dukes, would you?" He couldn't even believe he was asking this. From the looks of things, Charles couldn't either.

And when she responded, he thought that Charles would faint. "'Course I do. What wardrobe would be complete without a decent pair of chewed-up daisy dukes?"

"And a black sleeveless crop top?" Oh God, if Charles had his powers, he was certain that he'd be writhing in unthinkable mental anguish. Right now, however, Charles would have to settle for a meaningful, hateful glare.

"Well... yeah." She smiled sheepishly at Charles, who looked about two seconds away from a heart attack. "I was out with friends. Peer pressure!" He backed off, but only slightly. "But where is this going? It's fall. I'd freeze my fucking ass off."

"Evvie!" Charles immediately reprimanded her for the language.

"Sorry!" She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes slowly dilating.

Everything was slowly falling into place. Logan was carefully reconstructing Peter's favorite picture of Evvie... it was of their first kiss, and had actually been an extreme source of embarrassment to him for many years. It wasn't until Evvie was sent on her first solo mission halfway across the world that he came to carry that picture in the breast pocket of his uniform every day until she returned. It was like his lifeline... his last connection to her.

The picture had been taken on the first nice day in spring. Peter's mom had just bought him his first car - a real clunker, but the best that she could manage, and it was more the thought than anything else - and Evvie had come over to his house to help him 'fix it up'. In Peter's own words, Evvie couldn't fix a car to save her life, but she was good motivation and she could jump-start a battery better than any piece of machinery a sixteen-year-old could get his hands on.

Logan figured that they had a decent thirty minutes of driving before the battery died the first time. Just enough time to drive to the nearest rest-stop, change, and then head to Peter's. That was, "I don't suppose you happen to have them on you?"

Hank laughed. "Are you kidding? The kid managed to pack her entire closet into her freaking suitcase!"

Immediately thereafter, she confirmed. "Yeah, I have them. Any chance you're gonna explain why I need to wear them?"

"It'll all make sense soon, I promise." Logan started to load their suitcases into the rental car, not liking the way it creaked uneasily. "You're just going to have to trust me, for now."

* * *

Exactly as he had predicted, the car broke down about three feet away from the Maximoff driveway. Charles was cursing under his breath, ranting about how he'd known that this was going to happen and how the hell did he plan on getting them to the Pentagon now. Logan rolled his eyes, getting out of the car. Hank and Charles followed closely behind, while Evvie struggled to stuff her foot back into her Go-Go boot.

"You're going to stay with the car, try to get it up and running." She looked at him like he had two heads, but he gave her the thumbs up. Once she had her shoes on, she shimmied out of the backseat and made he way around to the front of the car. "Just don't hurt it any more than it already is."

"Funny." She offered him a meek, not entirely there smile.

Soon after, they vanished into the house, leaving her to her own devices. It took her three minutes to figure out how to lift the hood, and another fifteen to actually get the hood up. Thick plumes of bluish gray smoke shot into the air, filling her lungs and causing her to cough viciously. When he'd called it a clunker, he certainly hadn't been kidding. She'd die of smoke inhalation before she was finished with it.

Sometime between removing a wire that probably should've stayed connected and burning herself on the overheated engine, Hank, Charles, and Logan re-emerged from the house with a teenage boy in tow. A teenage boy that got an eyeful of long, pearly white legs and blood-red hair. He paused, heart fluttering like mad in his chest, eyes widening as her body gave a sudden jolt - the car engine roared to life, electricity coursing through her fingers and into the car battery.

She backed away slowly, wiping off her hands on a small strip of cloth. And then she turned around, red curls flipping over her shoulder, and focused her light blue eyes on the four men. Their eyes met and she smiled.

It had started.

* * *

**A/N:** Revamped chapter 3. As for the identity of Evvie's mother, it _will_ be revealed later on. Also, the first confrontation between Evvie and Peter is up next.


	5. Chapter 4: The Rescue Mission

"This… This _thing_ is a screaming metal death-trap." She slammed the hood down, wincing as the car gave an unattractive groan. "I managed to fix the problem for now, but no guarantees how long it'll last."

Peter elbowed Logan in the rib cage, eyes never once leaving Evvie's sun-kissed face. "Who _is_ that?"

Charles shot him a distrustful glance, before clapping him on the shoulder, _hard_. "Close your mouth, son. You'll catch flies." And then, to Evvie, "We're gonna have to fit another body in the backseat, so make room."

Evangeline was just replacing her gloves when Logan chose to answer Peter's earlier question. "She's your insurance policy. Her name's Evangeline, but if you're nice to her," he smirked, "she'll let you call her Evvie."

A few minutes later, they were back in the car and on the road. Logan was behind the wheel, with Charles in the passenger seat, and Hank, Evvie, and Peter crammed in the back. The backseat was actually more of a bench, designed to fit one person comfortably. To accommodate all of the extra limbs and extremities, Evvie was practically in Peter's lap, and a great deal of Hank's body was contorted awkwardly on the floor. Every once in awhile, shuffling could be heard as they attempted to make themselves comfortable, whilst still trying to position themselves safely lest there be an accident.

Once, Logan peered into the rear-view mirror, watching as Evvie and Peter struggled. On one occasion, Peter's hand landed awkwardly and both of their face's turned bright red, before they broke down laughing. Didn't Professor X say something about Peter and Evvie not getting along at first? If so, he certainly wasn't seeing it in the way that they were acting now. Maybe, by triggering their first encounter earlier than fated, he'd changed the way that they saw each other. It was amazing how quickly things had taken a turn for the better. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out to be a little easier than he thought…

Logan went over the plan once, making sure that everyone was clear on the mission. Then, "Peter, you and Evvie are integral to the plan. Think of this like a glorified chess game. _Never_ lose your Queen."

Evvie looked at him indignantly. "I'm fully capable of taking care of myself, thank you."

"I'm more thinking about Peter." Logan said. "Evvie is your ticket all over the Pentagon. With her mutation, should anything go wrong on our end, she can force a password override or short-circuit cameras."

"She's the insurance policy." Peter repeated Logan's earlier comment.

"Exactly." Everything seemed to be falling into place. "So don't lose her, no matter what."

Charles pitched in with, "We'll be meeting you in the kitchen. Hopefully we'll have been able to neutralize the threat by then, but no promises, so be ready for anything." And then, darkly, "And if you get my little girl shot…"

Peter's eyes widened marginally, his heart rate speeding up considerably. "Not planning on it, sir."

When his arms tightened around her slightly, she removed one of her gloves to check his pulse. In a soft, chastising voice, she turned to Charles, frowning, "You're giving him a panic attack, Daddy!"

Logan rolled his eyes, "Or it could be the fact that there's a pretty girl sitting on his lap." And then, after a lethal look from Charles, "Or it could be a combination of the two."

Taking hold of his wrist, that same blue color ghosted over Evvie's fingertips. Very slowly, his heart rate came back down to normal. Once she was sure that he wouldn't relapse into another attack, she slipped the glove back on. Suddenly, Logan hit the brakes - they'd arrived. However, just like every other part of the car, the brakes certainly left something to be desired. Evvie's body lurched off of Peter's lap and was in the air, heading toward the windshield. In a blur of blue and silver, Peter was right there with her. Gripping her tight, he pulled her back with him, holding her a little tighter until the car came to a complete stop.

Charles was clutching his chest, looking at Logan as if he were a lunatic. "What the bloody hell was that?"

But Evvie was looking at Peter with a sort of awe-struck, terrified adoration. "T-Thanks.. for saving me… like that." And if Peter was looking at her the same way, well, nobody was really looking at them anyhow.

Well, except for Logan, that is - and if he knew that the brakes were a tad desensitized, well, it had all worked out in the end, hadn't it? "I think someone needs to take a look at the brakes. Hank?"

Hank rolled his eyes. "Of course, 'cause when we can't get supergirl back here to supercharge them, we call in the one who actually _knows_ something about mechanics…"

* * *

Peter had her by the wrist, and was dragging her through the maze of hallways that would take them to the kitchen. They weren't quite clear on how they were going to infiltrate the inner-workings on the Pentagon just yet… that had already sparked quite a nasty argument. As it turned out, they'd already butted heads over one of their more drastic differences. Peter seemed to favor playing it by ear, grasping the opportunity as it chose to show itself. Evvie, on the other hand, liked to have a plan. If they just burst in and 'played it by ear', they'd either be shot to ribbons or captured and arrested. Neither option seemed favorable.

"There!" Peter paused, pulling her by the wrist until she was flat against the wall beside him. "I know how we're gonna get in." He announced suddenly.

"Oh, and how do you propose that we do that?" Evvie asked, sounding more than a little snarky.

"You see those two officers over there?" He motioned to the two officers, who seemed to be eating their lunch. "They have uniforms, badges… _everything_ that we need to get by undetected. It's perfect!"

But Evvie didn't seem to be too impressed. "I don't know if you noticed this or not, but those are two _male_ officers. Last time I checked, I am very much a _girl_."

Peter shrugged. "You're flat-chested enough to pass for a boy."

"Excuse me?!" She looked to be seconds away from striking him across the face.

"We'll just have to do something about all of that hair…" and then, an idea came to him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a Swiss Army knife. "Turn around."

"What? No!" Evvie immediately refused.

Peter sighed. "Why do girls have to be so _difficult_?"

He took a fistful of her hair and started to saw at it with the Swiss Army knife. He did his best not to pull, or prolong the experience in any way, but he did acknowledge the fact that these were less than ideal circumstances under which to be receiving a very unwanted haircut. She was clawing at his hands, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Large fistfuls of crimson-red hair were falling to the tile floor around them. It was by some blessing that she didn't cry out and alert the two officers to their presence. When he was finished, he pocketed the knife and patted her shoulder.

She whirled on him suddenly, her leather-glove clad fist connecting with his shoulder with such force that he stumbled backward a little. He would definitely be sporting bruises there later. But there was no time to reflect on that now. Grabbing her by her upper arm, they took off in the direction of the two officers. Once they were close enough, Evvie abandoned the gloves and, coming up behind them, gave each a solid jolt to the neck. It wasn't enough to kill them, but it would incapacitate them for some time. That was when Peter pulled out the duct-tape, and they set to work.

Once they were fully clad in their respective uniforms, Evvie paused, before punching him again, this time a little harder. Peter flinched, rubbing his bruising arm. "Ow! What the hell? I got it the first time!"

"My Dad's gonna kill you…" she gave him a quick once-over, crossing her arms over her chest, "and I might just let him, now." Turning her back to him, she started down the hall, in the direction of the kitchen.

Peter hurried after her at a light jog, not wanting to alert anyone to his powers just yet. "Why the hell is your old man so protective of you, anyhow? Like you said, you're fully capable of caring for yourself."

That didn't seem to mend any bridges between the two of them. "It's complicated."

Peter shrugged. "We've got nothing but time till we find this 'Erik' person."

She sighed. "Fine." She turned back around to face him, crossing her arms over her 'flat' chest. "My mom didn't want me. She was gonna give me up for adoption without telling my father I even existed."

"That sucks." Peter sounded genuinely sympathetic, but she wasn't moved.

"I'm the only thing that my father has left of my mother. He says that I look a lot like her, but I've never seen a picture of her, so I don't know for sure. So yeah, he's a little overprotective. Who wouldn't be?"

They walked in silence for several moments, nodding politely to their 'fellow officers' as they trekked through the kitchen and grabbed the meal meant for the maximum security prisoner that was being kept downstairs. Upon reaching the elevator, their access key wasn't working. As it turned out, the uniforms that they had snagged belonged to two officers who didn't have clearance for this area. With a sigh, Evvie supercharged the elevator, sending it plummeting one-hundred floors down to their destination. Standing back, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and closed her eyes, trying to think about anything but the boy beside her.

"I know what it's like." He said suddenly, startling her.

"You know what _what_ is like?" She tried to sound disinterested, but she was trying a little too hard.

"My Dad wants nothing to do with my sister and I. I never even met him." He tried to shrug it off as nothing, but it was clear that it bothered him. "He just used my mother as a means to an end." Now, he was angry.

She smiled softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder, ignoring how he flinched slightly. "Guess we both have some kind of Daddy issues, huh?"

Realizing that she was coming back around, he returned the smile. "Yeah… guess we do." Then, the elevator doors opened, and they stepped out together.

* * *

"Is that him?" Evvie asked, staring down into the glass and concrete enclosure.

"I don't see anyone else being kept one-hundred floors below the Pentagon." Peter bit back. Evvie gave him a look, and he quickly apologized, "Sorry, sorry…"

Evvie circled around the cell once, before lightly tapping on the glass. Looking up at Peter, she asked, "And how are we supposed to break him out?"

He squatted down, placing his hands onto the glass covering of the cell. "Just leave that to me."

At this point, Erik was staring up at the two teens, trying to figure out what in the world they were doing. And then, the glass began to tremble. As soon as Evvie was able to figure out what it was that he was doing, she motioned for him to cover his head. It took him a few seconds to understand what the motion meant, but he finally turned and covered himself, just as a shower of glass rained down around him. Once the glass was out of the way, Evvie reached down and helped him out. Within seconds, he was standing between them, staring at the undeniably familiar girl and the son that he never knew.

They could hear commotion going on outside, and realized that they were running out of time - there was no more time to mess around. By breaking the glass and rescuing Erik, they'd tripped up so many alarms. Any second now, the door would open and they'd be confronted by numerous men with guns, all fully loaded and pointing at them. Peter yanked Erik over to the door, preparing for just such an instance. Erik was fighting to get out of Peter's hold, even as Peter grabbed hold of his neck to keep him from getting whiplash. Evvie took a seat at the edge of the broken cell, simply waiting.

It was Erik that finally brought up, "So, you're just going to leave your accomplice in here to be shot to ribbons, hmm? Great plan. Great plan." He rolled his eyes.

Peter sighed heavily, "You really _are_ a handful, aren't you?"

"I'm sure my Dad will understand if you just leave me here." She said nonchalantly, trying to play it off like nothing.

Peter paused, before releasing Erik momentarily and making his way over to Evvie. Grabbing her by the arm, he scooped her up onto his back, hooking her legs around his middle and her arms around his neck. "There."

"I'm not a baby. I don't need to be carried." But she didn't let go, either, as Peter resumed his earlier position.

"Do yourself a favor and don't give me another reason to want to drop you, okay?" He bit back.

The door opened and they took off, Evvie burying her face in Peter's neck to prevent her neck from snapping backwards. Peter tried not to think of how sweetly she smelled, or how large her chest actually was, pressing tightly between his shoulder blades as she hung onto him for dear life. Everything moved in a blur around them, but in the distance, bullets could be heard ringing through the air. Her arms and legs tightened around him almost imperceptibly, and if he was smiling, well, nobody could see to call him on it anyhow. In mere milliseconds, they were in the elevator taking them back up to the kitchen.

Evvie peeled herself off of Peter's back and cracked her neck, before looking at Erik skeptically. "You better be pretty damn special, to be going through all of this trouble."

The doors to the elevator opened and Hank, Charles, and Logan rushed in. Before the doors could close, however, an override code was entered and the six of them were left exposed. Guns were being waved in their faces, and then, the first one went off. Evvie counted six bullets in all, and more coming. Charles dashed to prevent Erik from manipulating the bullets, and Peter, out of the corner of his eye, saw a bullet coming straight in for Evvie's forehead. For some reason that he couldn't quite identify, his stomach clenched painfully. Without really thinking, he grabbed her and threw her to the floor underneath him.

In what seemed like forever, but was really only a millisecond, the officers were disarmed and the threat was eliminated. And then, Peter was kneeling before her, offering her a hand, "Are you okay?"

She accepted the hand, although a little hesitantly. Once she was back on her feet, however, she scowled. "I really, really hate you."

But Peter only cocked his head to the side and smiled, "Aww, I really like you, too."

* * *

A/N: I really didn't realize that it's been so long since I updated. Sorry guys :(

Anyhow, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you to my faithful reviewers and the 117 people who have followed Meant to Be. What to expect next chapter: a temporary goodbye to Peter, more hints as to who Evvie's mom is, and Erik finally gets a clue as to who Evvie is. Stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 5: Butterfly Kisses

It was only when they reached the parking lot, the debacle of the kitchen a giant mess of the past, that Charles finally exclaimed, "What the hell happened to your hair?"

Evvie rolled her eyes, running her hand through her short red curls. If she straightened her hair out, it probably would turn out to be longer than she had originally thought. "A little slow on the uptake, Dad?"

"You mind your father." But there was no malice in his tone - he never could be strict when it came to Evvie.

They made their way back to the screaming metal death trap, pausing just long enough for Logan to reach into his pocket and produce the keys. He tossed them to Peter. "Take good care of her, huh?"

Peter looked at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "You're kidding, right? I don't even know how this thing is street legal!"

"Trust me," Logan shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "you'll want it with you someday."

Peter sighed, before turning to Evvie. "Give her one last jump-start?"

Charles watched them leave uneasily. The unease was not directed specifically at Peter, but more at the situation in general. Nobody would deny that Evvie had been a 'sheltered' child. She was smart, intelligent beyond words, but she didn't know people. Mostly, Charles blamed himself for this. Keeping her locked away in the school like a princess in a tower, where her only two worldly companions were himself and Hank, couldn't have helped her social skills. And while he was happy that she seemed to be taking so well to this Peter boy, he couldn't help but worry that, somehow, she'd end up getting taken advantage of.

Evvie was, by her very nature, distrustful of outsiders. He supposed that this was something that he had instilled in her, or, perhaps, simply something that she had inherited from her mother. Her trust was hard fought and easily lost. Listening to that engine roar to life, watching as they shared the smile of friends who have known each other their entire lives, Charles wondered what it was about Peter that made everything… different. He wasn't fooled into thinking that Evvie liked him, not by any stretch of the imagination. But, for some reason, she respected him. And he couldn't stand not knowing why.

* * *

Once they were on the plane, which was headed in the direction of the Peace Summit, things really started to go downhill. Tensions were high between Erik and Charles. Evvie, a little put-off by Erik's having assassinated the President, tended to give him a wide berth, which didn't make anything better. However, for the most part, she remained up in the cockpit with Hank. As it turned out, they got along much better when Beast wasn't tearing their guests to ribbons in the foyer. Logan was starting to see what Professor X had meant when he said that, in the seventies, Evvie was still convinced she was going to marry Hank…

"I abandoned you?" Logan turned back to Erik and Charles, having missed the first part of their argument. "Last time I checked, you were the one who turned his back on everything we stood for!"

Erik was on his feet, pacing anxiously back and forth along the cabin. "Don't try to make this my fault, Charles! If you hadn't smothered her -,"

But Charles cut him off, "Smother her? I was there for her when she needed someone! I've always been there for her!"

"Controlling her every move!" Erik screamed back. It was a full-fledged screaming match, now.

"No! Not controlling! Never controlling! I guided her, that's all!" Charles fought back.

Erik laughed. It was broken and raw and tired. "Guided her? Oh, yes, that is exactly what you did! You guided her right to me! She's out there, fighting for our cause… for our equality…"

"She's fighting your war." Charles said, suddenly sounding tired. "Tell me, was assassinating the President part of that war?"

"I wasn't trying to kill him." Erik's blood was still boiling. As his frustration continued to mount, the plane slowly began to twist and bend and contort onto itself. "I was trying to save him!"

"And you honestly expect me to believe that? That's low, even for you." Charles said.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the plane gave a sudden jolt and various sirens started blaring in the cockpit. Logan's body flew forward as he was sent hurtling off his bench into the one parallel to him. The chess board fell to the floor, Charles almost falling with it. And, in the midst of it all, an emotionally erratic Erik stood, feeding power into the storm. Panicked cries came from the cockpit, followed by a high-pitched scream. This was followed by glass, first splintering, than shattering completely. Almost instantly, the plane righted itself… but the damage had been done, and they'd have to land soon.

Putting the plane in autopilot, Hank grabbed Evvie and dragged her through the cabin and into the back, where they kept the first-aid kit. All Charles saw was a blur of red and for the first time, he truly found himself regretting sacrificing his powers. His little girl was hurt because of Erik's carelessness and inability to maintain a lid on his temper. The mutant should be on the floor, rolling around in mental agony. He watched as Hank fumbled with the bandages, hands trembling as he attempted to wrap her upper arm without causing her anymore pain. From what he could see, she'd been sliced open by a shower of broken glass.

As he wrapped her up, he spoke over her soft mewls, chastising, "Can we please go through the rest of the flight without pissing each other off and endangering everyone on board, thank you?"

Charles sighed, before pinching the bridge of his nose, "How bad is it, Hank?"

"Two cuts, both about an inch long. One is where she was impaled, the other is just a scratch. The first one is pretty deep, but she should be fine." He said immediately, before taping the last of the gauze down.

Erik sat down across from Charles, "I believe that we can play one game of chess without tearing out each other's throats." He said simply.

"It's been quite awhile." Charles responded. "You have the first move."

Evvie made her way over, sitting calmly next to her father. "May I watch, Daddy?"

"Of course you can, baby." He kissed her forehead, before eyeing her shoulder carefully. "Hank, why don't you get her some pain medicine? Let's nip it in the bud before it starts to smart, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy." When the medicine came, she took it obediently.

Erik made the first move, casting as side-long glance at the teen attentively watching at Charles' side. It was true that the resemblance was uncanny, but that just simply couldn't be possible. But still, the evidence was there, plain as day. There was the same subtle arch of the eyebrow, the same bridge of the nose, the same curve of the lips into that little, diabolical half-smile. There were simply too many nuances for it to be a coincidence. But surely, Charles would have told him, or he would have heard… at sixteen, possibly seventeen… she was simply too old for him not to have noticed.

"I will tell you later." Charles said suddenly. Erik looked at him, startled, and Charles smiled. "I don't need my powers to know what you're thinking. You've always been an open book."

"You say that as if you expect me to be sticking around for awhile." Erik said nonchalantly.

"Well, once this is over, we have a lot to discuss." He made another move, and Erik took his. "And I'm pretty sure that this was just drop-kicked onto the list." He took his next move. "Check mate."

Erik started at the board, dumbstruck, then he laughed. "Even powerless, you're still better at this stupid game."

Charles smiled thinly, throat aching for a drink. "Or maybe I just know you that well."

* * *

Crystal was the kind of girlfriend that you didn't take home to your mother. Not that that had ever stopped Peter. Ms. Maximoff was well-acquainted with her son's longtime girlfriend. She was almost certain that they were having a physical relationship, which was more heavily focused on sex than on love, but knew that her son wasn't apt to listen to her about the potential consequences of his actions in the future. He was living in the moment, and she'd accepted that. Or, at least, she thought she had. But when Crystal showed up on her front porch, barely dressed and popping gum in her face… she realized she hadn't accepted anything at all.

"Is Peter home?" Hands stuffed into the pockets of her leather jacket, hips sashaying from side to side in a bright pink mini-skirt, she popped that bright pink gum right in Ms. Maximoff's face.

"No, he's not." A great big clunker pulled into the driveway just then, and her son was behind the wheel. She looked at the car uneasily, before motioning to Crystal. "But he just pulled up."

Crystal was over at his side of the car before he'd even killed the engine. "Whassup, Pete? Didn't think it was important to be telling your girl that you were leaving town for a few days?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Gee, Crystal, and here I thought when you said, 'let's see other people', that meant that we were broken up."

"Yeah, well, I've seen the other people." Crystal said. "And there ain't one of them that I liked. So, I say we're back together. Do you have a problem with that?"

They'd been together for a year and a half - they break it off for one week, and he's a freaking mess, looking for any kind of distraction. Without even thinking, he says, "No, ma'am. No problem here."

"Good." She walked around the car and hopped into the passenger seat. "You're taking me to the drive-thru."

Ms. Maximoff watched, more than a little uncomfortable, as Crystal walked over her son like a doormat. The worst part: he seemed to enjoy it. Peter had always been the delinquent type, yes… at least, on the inside. On the outside, he didn't look like he could hurt a fly. And people took advantage of that. People like Crystal. When it came down to it, Crystal was just as much a delinquent as Peter… and she was also the reason that Ms. Maximoff was well-acquainted with the sargeant down at the police station. Without her influence, Peter would probably stick to graffiti instead of petty theft and larceny.

"Peter!" She couldn't help but call after him, even as he started the engine (it was a wonder that it started at all) and started to pull out. He sighed, making a show of rolling down the window.

"What, Mom? We're a little busy!" Yes, getting ready to do everything at the drive-thru but actually watch the movie.

She sighed, resolve faltering. Finally, she settled on, "Be careful!"

Crystal laughed. Ms. Maximoff was fairly certain that, in that moment, she truly started to hate her boy's girlfriend. Peter rolled his eyes, be appeased her. "I will!"

And then they were off.

* * *

They arrived at the hotel about an hour and a half later, having decided that it was probably better to finish their commute by car. Less chance of plummeting hundreds of thousands of feet to their inevitable deaths - always a plus. Charles booked them for three rooms - two doubles and one single. The doubles were conjoined by a bathroom, while the single was down the hall apiece. Charles wasn't sure how comfortable he was with his daughter being so far away, but knew that he would also be uncomfortable with her sharing a room with anyone else. After arriving in their rooms, they prepared for bed.

Evvie came down the hall to see him before bed, as she usually did when they were back at the school. Dressed in a sweetheart-style lilac nightie, she suddenly appeared to him then as the grown-up that she was rapidly becoming. Where was the sweet little angel who would come running into his study to hide under his desk when a storm came rolling in, because the big-bad thunder couldn't get her when Charles was around? Where was the little girl who wasn't afraid to kiss her Daddy before running off with her friends at school? She couldn't be all grown-up… not yet… it had all gone by so fast, too fast…

"Goodnight, Daddy." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, and, just on a whim, he ruffled her hair like he used to when she was a tiny tot running wild around the school. The little angel who could do no wrong.

She laughed, just like she always did, and he felt a little better. After a beat, he let his hand fall to his side, "Why won't you tell me what happened to your hair?"

Her smile faltered a little, and then fell completely. "It's just hair, Daddy. It'll grow back."

"You have your Mom's hair." Evvie's eyes widened. Charles never talked about her mother. "Her hair, and her eyes. With it short like this, you look even more like her."

Evvie gingerly tested the waters. "Was she pretty, Daddy?"

"She was the most beautiful woman that I ever met." He answered without hesitation. "And you look more and more like her every day."

She felt her hair, which was still damp from her shower. "I was thinking about straightening it. It'll be a little longer that way, anyhow. At least down to my shoulders, maybe a little more."

"Her hair was straight. You have my curls." He cocked his head to the side. "Straight would look good on you."

She smiled, "Then I'll do it tomorrow morning."

They each said 'goodnight' one more time, and then Evvie retreated back to her room for the night. Logan, who had been listening at the door, couldn't help but grin. Carefully, he unfolded the wedding photo, which he kept on his person at all times. In the photo, Evvie was sporting full-bodied red hair, which fell poker-straight down to her shoulders. Peter had always said that it was something about the blood red in stark contrast with the moonlight pale of her skin that made it oh so radiant on her. Everything seemed to be falling into place… especially since Charles had taken the bait about the hotel.

Having already planted the number for the main desk in the clunker he'd handed over to Peter, all that was left to do was wait….


	7. Chapter 6: Runaway

The next morning, Charles awoke to find himself alone in the room that he'd shared with Hank. The bed that Hank had slept had been neatly made, with his blue-and-white checked pajama bottoms folded at the foot of the bed. Charles slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His back gave a sharp, but fleeting twinge. He'd need another shot soon. However, since that wouldn't happen until they were able to repair the damage to the plane and return to the school, he'd have to settle for Tylenol and hope for the best. Just as he was reaching for the red and white bottle, Hank emerged from the en-suite bathroom.

It seemed as if he'd taken an early shower, if the steam pouring out of the bathroom and the beads of water dripping off of his still-damp hair were to be any indication. He was dressed in his bright red jogging shorts, and a loose white t-shirt. After shooting Charles a small smile in the way of a silent 'good morning', he made his way over to his bed, plopping down on the mattress and slipping on a pair of tattered gray socks. Charles watched him for a moment, before unscrewing the lid on the Tylenol bottle and dropping two ovular white pills into his hand. He swallowed them dry, re-attached the lid, and tossed it back into his bag.

"Evvie and I are going for our morning jog." Hank announced suddenly. At home, it was customary for them to take a brisk jog around the campus every morning. It tended to be the only exercise Evvie got.

"Are you sure that's such a great idea?" Charles asked uncertainly. "I mean, I guess we're pretty much fugitives now that we've broken Erik out of the Pentagon. We don't want to garner unnecessary attention."

Hank shrugged, already working one foot into his worn-out tennis shoes. "I think we can both agree that all of this is total culture shock to Evvie. Before now, all she's really known is the two of us. This is her routine."

Charles was silent for a moment. He wasn't terribly keen on the idea, but he also understood what Hank was saying. In such foreign surroundings, keeping her routine was key. "You'll look out for her?"

Hank almost looked insulted. "When don't I?"

"You know that I'll always have to ask. She's my baby-girl." And she was growing-up way too fast.

Rising off of the bed and crossing the room, he placed a hand onto Charles' shoulder. "I know. And she means the world to me too." Hank said softly. "I'd lay down my life for her in a heartbeat. You know that."

The Professor smiled, "I do. Thank you."

"Not a problem." He started for the door, opening it to face a very impatient looking Evangeline. "We'll be back in about an hour!" He shut the door with a resounding thud behind him.

Charles sat on the bed for a moment, motionless. Then, he chanced a look at the clock. It was about six o' clock in the morning. The perfect time for a brisk jog, and for all Professors to get out of bed and head downstairs for some early coffee at the breakfast buffet. Alcohol would be better - both on his aching head, and his burning throat - but coffee would have to suffice. He'd been drunk a little too often lately, and as much as he didn't want to think that Evvie had noticed, how could she not? And that wasn't the way that he wanted her to remember him. Maybe this, in some strange sort of way, was his intervention.

He climbed off the bed, wincing slightly as the pain in his back temporarily flared up. It quickly subsided again, and didn't return as he started walking over to the closet, where he'd pulled out a few outfits for the next two days or so. Grabbing a pair of brown bellbottoms and a dark red button-down shirt, he tossed them down onto the bed. Quickly undressing, he put on the clean clothes, tossing the old ones haphazardly onto the bed. The mess sprawled out on his Queen-sized mattress stood in stark contrast to the neat, orderly array that was Hank's bed. And he had to wonder - when had everything in his life become such a mess?

Probably when she left me, he reasoned, trying (and failing) to convince himself that there was no bitterness hidden within his tone. He didn't like to think about her, about what she had become, and when he did, he never dwelled upon her for very long. Some things were simply not meant to be, and he was man enough to accept that. But this whole mess was dragging all of those nasty emotions back to the surface, emotions that he would usually bury beneath glasses of alcohol. Because alcohol understood. Because alcohol didn't talk back. He took a deep breath, forcibly clearing his mind. She wouldn't get to him… not today, at least.

Upon leaving the room, however, he found himself side-tracked when he stumbled upon Logan seated unobtrusively in the hallway. He was chewing on an unlit cigar. "Logan?"

"Professor." The acknowledgement earned him a careful nod, before Logan returned to whatever it was he was carefully mulling over.

Charles frowned. "Is something wrong, Logan?"

"You ever try spending ten hours in a room with that man?" Charles didn't envy Logan, having been subjected to sharing a double room with Erik. "Just needed a breather, that's all. Everything's great."

"I am well aware of the feeling." Charles was silent for a moment, then, "I was actually just about to head down and grab some coffee. I'd appreciate the company."

Logan looked at him uncertainly. "Coffee isn't really my thing…"

"It'll get you away from Erik for a half-hour or so." Charles proposed cheerily, even managing a small smile.

Logan was on his feet in record time, leading the way down to the breakfast buffet. "You're on."

* * *

Charles and Erik had had another fight by noon. Hank had walked in in the middle of it, turned right around, and taken Evvie out for ice cream. She didn't need to see that. In a heightened emotional state, she was more inclined to lose control of her powers. When she wasn't in control of herself, her power drastically increased, and physical contact with her in this state could cause extreme bodily harm or even brain damage. So, he'd taken her back out. She (thankfully) hadn't questioned his intentions, and once they had their cones, they started walking around the town. The serenity of nature was a welcome alternative to the fighting.

"Hank?" Evvie asked suddenly, looking at her melting vanilla cone with some degree of confusion.

"What is it, Evvie?" He'd already eaten half of his cone, regardless of the considerable chill outside.

"Do you know… about my mother?" As soon as the question was out, she looked away, laughing sheepishly. She licked her ice cream cone absently, trying not to meet Hank's eyes.

There was silence for a beat, and then, "Yeah, I know about her."

And then, a little more excited now, "You know who she is?"

"Yeah." He swallowed hard, not liking where this conversation was heading.

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell her about her mother, or that he'd promised Charles he'd keep his silence. He wasn't trying to protect anyone by keeping his silence… except, perhaps, Evvie herself. Evvie had an incredibly romanticized idea of who and what her mother was - she had nothing to go on, other than that her mother had wanted to give her up for adoption, after all. He'd watched as she'd formed these ideas over the years, everything ranging from her mother being a doctor to a movie star. How was he supposed to tell her that her mother was a mutant that had gone rogue 'fighting for the cause'?

"I won't ask you to tell me who she is." Evvie said, and he released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I just want to know… why don't we ever talk about her? Why do we act like she doesn't exist?"

Hank rubbed the back of his neck, squeezing his eyes closed, "God, you certainly ask tough questions, don't you?"

"I'm sorry!" She said immediately. "I just… I don't know how to ask Dad, and I know that, if I ask you, it won't go any further. Because, what we talk about, it never goes any further. I… You're the only one I could ask."

His shoulders slumped, "You don't have to be sorry." A pause, "And don't ask Charles. That would be bad."

"But why?" She just didn't know when to let up, did she?

"Your mother and father didn't exactly have an… amicable break-up. She turned on him when he needed her most, and he blames himself. And seeing and thinking about her now… it just causes him unimaginable pain."

Evvie's breath hitched, but Hank didn't hear it. She was remembering how her father had said how much she looked like her mother… did looking at her cause her father pain? "Does everything about her cause him pain?"

"Even her name." Hank answered almost immediately.

Evvie could feel hot tears begin to streak down her cheeks, and she lowered her head so that they would be hidden by her hair. Suddenly, her father's words to her the night before seemed cold and distant. Had he meant them as a compliment, or something else entirely? She now found herself regretting her decision to follow through with her earlier intent to straighten her hair. What other parts of her resembled her mother? And then, a darker thought occurred to her - was that why her father drank so heavily? Because of her mother? The tears began to pick up speed, now, falling steadily down her cheeks.

She let out a choked little sob, and this time, Hank heard her. He looked at her worriedly. "Are you okay, Evvie -," but never got the chance to finish.

She tossed the rest of her ice cream cone into the nearby trashcan, before taking off in a run. Obviously, the morning jogging sessions had paid off, because she had at least twenty yards on him before he realized what had happened. The beast within let out a low growl, wanting to take control and charge after her. He knew that this would be a mistake, however. Evvie wasn't necessarily scared of Beast, but she wasn't terribly fond of it. It wouldn't do any favors in trying to win her over. So he took off after her on foot, using his advanced eyesight to make sure that he didn't lose her in the crowd.

"Evvie!" He called after her, hoping that she would hear and stop. But she was too far away...

* * *

It had only been twenty four hours since he'd last seen Evangeline, and he'd already started to miss her. Not that he liked her! He could barely fathom how he'd survived just two hours in her company. But, for some reason, she stuck in his head like glue. She was pretty, true, but that couldn't be it. Crystal was drop-dead gorgeous, but even at the drive-in, he couldn't help but feel drawn away from her. She was witty, charming, even, and every time he saved her (even from something like failing brakes and an almost-encounter with the windshield) she looked at him as if he were some kind of hero. He'd never been looked at as a hero before.

But she was also annoying as hell. Annoying like his kid sister, Wanda, was annoying. He figured that she had to be an only child, and he would be right in that assumption. But with her… the annoying factor was almost… endearing. He could still remember that twist of the gut that he'd felt when the bullet had come flying at her, how she had been the first one that he'd made sure was safe from the line of fire. Why did she mean so much to him, when he'd only just met her? And why couldn't he get her off of his mind? He looked at the slip of paper that had been left on the dashboard of the car once more.

Peter -

I'm sure that there are some questions you must have. A lot of those questions probably revolve around Evvie, and why I continually refer to her as the 'Queen'. There's a lot that you don't know about Evvie, a lot that I can tell you about. You just have to know the right questions to ask.

I'm leaving you the number of the hotel that I and the rest of the group will be staying in for the next two days. That is your only chance to find out what you want to - here, 'want to' was crossed out - need to know. After that, you're on your own, kid.

Logan

Below that, there was a phone number. And after several moments of simply staring at the 10-digit number written in a scrawling hand across the page… he picked up the phone and dialed.


	8. Chapter 7: Alex Summers

The world blurred around her as she ran. There was something wrong about her having made it this far without being caught, but that wasn't enough to make her stop. She needed to leave. She couldn't face Hank, Logan… her father. Not now that she knew the truth about how her father felt about her mother.

Sobs wracked through her body, each one making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Her muscles screamed, pumping battery acid through her veins, but she kept on moving. Hank's words repeated in her brain like a broken record. Everything about her mother hurt her father. Was she counted amongst that seemingly all-inclusive 'everything'? The night before, as he'd stroked her hair and told her how she looked so much like her mother… how much pain had that truly caused him? And suddenly, her knees just went out from under her and she fell down into a nearby bench and cried. It was embarrassing and garnered quite a few unwelcome stares, but she couldn't stop.

Distantly, she wondered if Hank was coming after her. Somewhere, deep down inside, she hoped that he would. But as the hustle and bustle of Main Street converged around her, she realized that her scent was probably well-concealed. And having lost sight of Hank awhile ago, she knew that the chances he'd find her (or, even Beast finding her) were slim to none. And where did that leave her? She'd run away in a town that she didn't even know - had only ever seen it on a map - and Hank was, undoubtedly, flipping the fuck out. He'd tell her Dad, who would then proceed to flip the fuck out. She really should just ask for directions back to the hotel and catch a taxi.

But she didn't move. She sniffled slightly, attempting to regain control of herself. Rubbing her eyes until they were swollen and red, she forced herself to sit up a little straighter, blinking back the sudden brightness of the sun in her eyes. It was true that she could ask for directions back to the hotel, but she knew that she wouldn't. That's when she felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder. A scream bubbled up in her throat, but it was stifled by a large, undeniably male hand clamped down over her mouth. She started to struggle, and the damn idiot had the nerve to laugh. And that really should have made her tense more… except she knew that laugh, knew it like the back of her hand.

"And here I thought that my sexy little vixen would be excited to see me." He husked into her ear, fighting the urge to laugh as her elbow came back to collide with his stomach and missed by a considerably wide margin.

"Alex!" She sounded breathless, excited, and for the first time that afternoon, a smile was spreading across her lips. "You're a sick jerk, you know that? You can't just sneak up on people like that!"

"I missed you too, my sweet." Alex smirked, planting a soft kiss on the shell of her ear.

"What are you doing here? I thought…" she'd been there when he'd received his draft notice, and when he'd been shipped off to Vietnam. "I thought that you were still in Vietnam."

Something unidentifiable flickered in Alex's eyes, and he seemed to force a smile, "That's a long story."

Evvie sighed, watching as Alex hooked around the bench to come sit with her. "I've got nothing but time, now."

After a moment of hesitation, Alex dove right in. He explained that, after being shipped off to Vietnam, his mutation had been discovered by one of the generals. It was then that he'd been divided into a mutant-only regiment. Their commander had been kind to them, doing his best to understand their situation, given that he was not a mutant himself. But then, news came from America that US forces were withdrawing from Vietnam. This was also around the same time that news of the Sentinel project was starting to pick up speed (and favor) within the US government. And although it could have cost him everything, their commander warned them that they were in grave danger.

As it turned out, intel had been leaked that they were intending to use the mutant-only regiment as test subjects for their new round of Sentinel 'programming'. Agents disguised as military officers were to take the mutants from Vietnam to Trask's labs, and then stage an accident where it looked as if they had died in a plane accident returning home. Since they'd been warned about this ahead of time, when the agents actually arrived, they were prepared. Thanks to the quick-thinking of Mystique, who entered the base under the guise of their commander, they were able to thwart the plot and escape. Which, long story short, was how he ended up sitting beside her.

"But that's enough about me." He shoved her shoulder lightly, the tear stains on her cheeks not entirely invisible to him. "You want to tell me why you're sitting out here, crying, all on your own?"

Evvie felt the light mood slowly drifting away, and drew her knees up into her chest, sighing. "I can't go home."

A confused look slowly wormed over Alex's features. "And why not?"

"Because I'm my mother's daughter… and I'm hurting him." Evvie felt the tears, hot and heavy, bombard her eyes once more. She scowled, rubbing ferociously at her eyes once more. She couldn't appear weak. Not to him.

"I have a hard time imagining you being able to hurt anyone." Alex confessed.

"Not intentionally!" She looked as if someone had struck her across the face. "I… I don't know." She stared down at the ground, slowly uncurling her body. "I have so many questions about my mom. But now… I don't know anymore…"

Alex decided to try a different approach. "Does Charles know that you ran away?"

"I suspect that he would by now." Evvie sighed. "It's been almost two hours since I lost Hank."

Alex clapped her on the back, laughing lightly. "You managed to throw the Beast? Now that warrants celebrating!" Looking around, his eyes settled on a coffee shop at the end of the road. "Let me buy you a drink."

* * *

She was considerably calmer once she had some coffee in her. Alex offered her his most disarming smile, reaching across the table to touch her hand. "So, you want to tell me what all this is about?"

Honestly… she didn't really want to share this with anyone. This seemed like the sort of inner anguish that was best when you wallowed in it all on your lonesome. But, at the same time, Alex had shared with her his personal experiences abroad, and she knew that that had to have been difficult for him. She owed him at least this much. After all, he was the closest thing that she'd had to a friend in all the years since she'd been yanked from public school. Granted, Charles was not exactly pleased that her only friend was an almost-reformed ex-con with anger management issues… but that was neither here nor there.

So, she explained to him everything that had happened - what she knew, what she speculated, and what she did not know. It basically boiled down to three things. One: her mother had never really wanted her. Two: the very thought of her mother brought her father immense emotional pain. And three: she was rapidly becoming the spitting image of her mother. Alex took all of this in silently, occasionally nodding thoughtfully. He'd known that Evvie had battled with not knowing about her mother for quite some time, and, really, 'not knowing' was always the worst part. But this was a new development that he hadn't expected, and it threw a very unwelcome curveball into things.

"Hank told me and I just… I just ran." She took another sip of her coffee, her hand trembling uncontrollably. "I ran… and ran… and ran…" turning, she looked out the window, lost. "I can't go back there."

"You're sixteen… almost seventeen, if I remember correctly." She smiled, and he knew he'd earned points for remembering her birthday after all this time. "Where the hell do you think you're gonna go?"

She shrugged. "Wish that I knew. I kinda like the idea of some place warm. Maybe the Mediterranean? Or some place in Latin America?" They were all very far, but, "I kinda just want to run and not look back."

"And how do you expect to do that with no money, Ronalda?" It was a petty, low joke between the two of them - Evvie's pale skin and dark red hair made her look like a female Ronald McDonald… at least to Alex, that is.

"I don't know." She shrugged again, staring deep into her near-empty glass. "I just know that it needs to happen."

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, "You know, as a 'friend' of your father, I really should tell him about our little meeting and what it is that you plan to do."

Staring deep into his eyes, she ascertained, "But you're not gonna do it, are you?"

"Nope." He shook his head. And then, exuberantly, "I'm gonna help you."

It was, quite possibly, the most ludicrous idea that he'd ever come up with. But then, Alex wasn't necessarily known for his rationality. Evvie wanted out of the goody two-shoes lifestyle? Fine. He had connections - he knew all the right people and how to talk their language. With her powerful mutation, she'd fit right in. Hell, if she could prove her worth, she might even get to meet the Mommy Dearest that she so idolized. But he wouldn't take advantage of her. If she was running away, fine, but they'd do it together. Evvie was one of the few 'good ones', one of the few that really understood him without him having to say a word. And, in turn, he understood her.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he stated, "I know some people. People that I met whilst in the army. Mutants. They're based a few towns over. They'll be able to hook you up with temporary lodging."

She tilted her head to the side, more than a little wary. "Why would they do that for a perfect stranger?"

"You're not a stranger." He tapped one thick, black motorcycle glove. "You're family." In more ways than one.

The wariness prevailed as she continued, "I don't want you to get in trouble for me."

Oh, but had the possibility of impending trouble ever deterred him before? No. And it was unlikely that it would do so now. "I won't." He assured. "I'm just helping out an old friend, that's all."

"A friend who might happen to be a little bit more than a 'friend'?" She teased gently, smiling for the first time in the duration of their conversation.

Alex took her hand over the table, smirking slightly. "Who might just be."

* * *

"What the bloody hell do you mean, 'you lost my daughter'?" Charles' shout had attracted a great deal of unwanted attention from the other patrons of the hotel, but one steamy glare had their attention diverted elsewhere.

"I mean that she ran off while we were out this afternoon and fled into a crowd, where I lost sight of her. I tracked her scent for a mile afterward… but I couldn't find her." Hank looked appropriately grief-stricken and hurt.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and failing to calm himself. Then, "Didn't you expressly tell me this morning that you would die before letting anything happen to her?"

"You say that like you think that I wanted this to happen!" And that hurt. Because Evvie meant everything to him, and Charles knew that.

"How the hell else am I supposed to explain it?" There were tears in his eyes, and he was perhaps a little bit drunk, but none of that mattered as he tore into Hank. "You fucking lost her! And you come crawling back here with your tail between your legs, thinking I'd give a rat's ass about how you feel about it?"

Logan pressed a hand to the Professor's shoulder, "We need to keep a level head about this. Freaking out at Hank won't make anything better."

Charles narrowed his eyes at Hank. "Oh, and just letting him get away with what he's done will fix everything?"

"I-I'm sorry, C-Charles." The stutter was new, and Charles wasn't overly fond of it.

"I should have never trusted you with her!" Charles exclaimed.

The fight was quickly spiraling out of control and eventually, Logan simply stepped back and watched, a little disheartened, as Charles lost what little he'd managed to regain on Hank. Hank, who'd been his only friend through this entire ordeal, simply stood there and took everything that Charles was able to dish out. Perhaps it was his own form of self-punishment, as he blamed himself for what had happened and was allowing Charles to walk all over him because of it. Or maybe it was because he knew that Charles needed a distraction, needed something to take away from the reality that just kept on fucking him over.

And that, of course, is when the phone rang.


	9. Chapter 8: A Clear Mind

The ringing abruptly stopped as the woman at the front desk picked up the phone, answering with a chipper, "Hello, you've reached the Clarion Hotel. This is the front desk – to where may I direct your call?"

Charles shot one last glare at Hank, before concluding, "I have to head back to the hotel room and call the police so that they can file a missing person's report." He ran a trembling hand through his messy, tangled curls. "Damn it, I need a drink."

Hank watched as Charles wandered over to the large, spiral staircase that would take him back upstairs to their room. And then, softly, almost beneath his breath, he whispered, "I never… I _would_ never… Oh _shit,_ Evvie!" Hank turned, muttering, "I have to go find her!"

"Hank!" Logan pressed after him, grabbing hold of the scientist's shoulder. Hank shrugged it off and kept going, never once missing a beat. "Hank, are you sure that that is the best idea?"

"I'm the one that lost her!" Hank whirled around, jabbing a thumb into his chest. "I'm the one that let her run, or scared her off, or _whatever_! It's _my_ fault! This one is _all on me_!" And he was crying – rich, full, heartbreaking sobs.

Logan stared at him levelly. "And if you go out there now, in your heightened emotional state, you're apt to get yourself killed."

The scientist was shaking so terribly, he looked like a wet leaf trembling in the wind. "It's better than staying here."

That being said, Logan almost let him go. Almost. "Look, I don't really know about Evvie's history. I don't know about her past, or what happened while she was a teenager. For all I know, this is all according to plan. She'll come back and be perfectly fine."

"And what if it's not? What if she goes and gets herself killed, or worse? What if Charles loses her? Because he can't take that." Hank replied flatly.

And that's when Logan told him. He told him about how things were apt to play out in the future, especially if they continued to progress down this route. He explained that, in the future, Evvie would be married to Peter and have three children by him – Apolline, Amadeo, and Nyx. Continuing on, he explained how he eventually would come to the Xavier School – which was fully thriving at that point – and how Evangeline had unofficially "taken him under her wing". She'd helped him learn how to channel his anger, and had, at least to some degree, helped with his nightmares. Needless to say, she was a well-loved and well-respected member of the Xavier School Faculty.

Then, the Sentinels invaded. Peter and Evvie had first been dragged into the issue when Peter's sister, Wanda, had been mortally wounded in battle against the Sentinels. Her seemingly futile battle for her life afterward was what fueled the Xavier School's original interest and research into the Sentinel Project. Not too long after that, an alliance with the Xavier School, located in Pensacola, Florida, had been ravaged. Mutants had been severely injured, some even killed. Logan and Evvie had been sent to head a team into Florida to provide them back-up for several days, until the threat had passed. Evvie had pushed her power to the absolute limit, and had been exhausted and drained coming back.

But they simply didn't have enough time to let her recoup. And she was sent on an Intel-gathering mission with her husband, Quicksilver. Unfortunately, this would also happen to be the last mission they would go on together… or ever. Evvie, sluggish and hurting, had been just a bit too slow in reacting to the oncoming Sentinel attack, and Peter had been just seconds too late in saving her. Evangeline had been impaled through the stomach, and then thrown to the ground. Escaping through a portal created by Blink, they'd ended up on the front steps of the Xavier school… where Evvie had died in Peter's arms, and Peter had eventually died as well.

Logan continued with, "He _will_ lose her, eventually. Especially if we continue on in this way." Logan said. "I know how her future will turn out if we allow ourselves to get distracted. If we don't stop the Sentinel Project, she _will_ die."

Hank looked to be incredibly troubled, mulling this over in his brain for a moment. Then, "Have you told Charles this?"

"If things go the way that they should, and we're able to fix this, then we won't ever have to tell him." Logan said.

"It's just…" Hank trailed off, but his body had relaxed significantly, so Logan released him, comforted by the fact that it seemed he was no longer inclined to run. "She's never been away from the school before, you know? At least, not for very long. And now… she's out there… _somewhere_… _alone_…"

Charles chose that moment to come back downstairs, running a hand over his tired, exasperated face. "I just got off the phone with the police. Do you know what those bloody fools told me?"

He wouldn't even look at Hank, so Logan had to ask, "What?"

"They said that she was a teenager, and as such, apt to run away. She'll come back on her own when she feels like it." Charles said bitterly. "They won't start looking for her for twenty-four hours."

That had to be hard. Logan couldn't even begin to comprehend what was going through Charles' mind, but it was probably something similar to what was going through his mind after he found out that his daughter had been impaled and killed by one of the Sentinels. Logan knew Evvie… or, at least, the Evvie of the future. He felt that he could say, with some degree of certainty, that she wouldn't just 'run away' for no reason, as the officer had suggested. This was unusual, and he was almost certain that there was more to the story than what he was currently aware of, but at the moment, he couldn't let the wound fester. Evvie had to be presumed safe until her condition could be confirmed otherwise.

And it was in this spirit that he asked, "How are we doing, tracking down Mystique… Raven?" He corrected himself quickly.

Charles looked like he had just been struck across the face. "What the bloody hell does that have to do with _any_ of this? My daughter is missing, none of 'this' matters anymore." He finished darkly.

Hank looked at Charles warily, before turning to Logan. Unlike Charles, he realized what it was that Logan was trying to do. "Not well." He shifted awkwardly, as if debating whether or not to bring up a sensitive issue. Finally, "If we really want to search for her effectively… we'd need Cerebro."

If looks could kill, "No. Never. Not again." But the pain was getting worse. He knew he'd need another shot soon, or the voices would come back. The pain would come flooding back. It always did. "Never again…"

"Not even to save your daughter's life?" Now it was Hank's turn to get hot under the collar, white-hot anger coloring his cheeks a light red. "You know as well as I do that, if you had your powers, you'd have been able to find Evvie by now and bring her home!"

They stared each other down for several tense moments. Hank was breathing heavily, looking lost between pouncing on taking Charles out or fainting flat on his face. Hank saw that Charles' eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, hinting at the tears he must have cried while begging the officer to find his daughter, his 'runaway'. This fact did nothing to soften the look on Hank's face. Charles bit down on his bottom lip, perhaps a bit harder than absolutely necessary, and tasted the bittersweet, coppery tang of blood as it spilled over his tongue. And Logan watched as two great friends were slowly and steadily torn apart by an awful and unthinkable truth – the one man he trusted above all else, had lost the most important thing in the world to him.

Charles, surprisingly, was the first one to turn away. He turned to Logan, looking into his eyes with an almost vacant expression. "We leave tomorrow afternoon at one o' clock." And then he wasn't seen for the rest of the day.

* * *

Logan went to the front desk later that day, in order to pay for their next day and make it clear that they would be checking out the next afternoon. The lady behind the desk was very amiable, with a big smile on her face – but her sunny disposition was a little too happy for how Logan felt at that current moment. He could sense the storm building on the horizon. Hank and Charles seemed to be just seconds away from coming to blows, and he knew that things were bad when Charles had requested that they switch roommates. But there did seem to be one piece of good news. When the lady handed him a receipt, she also handed him a note from earlier. There was a name and a phone number on it.

"A man called for you earlier." She said. "He said that his name was Peter Maximoff, and that he was a friend of yours. He requested that you call as soon as possible. I would have told you sooner… but you seemed to be a little busy earlier." She smiled soothingly, apologetically.

"Thank you." He took it from her gratefully. The paper felt heavy and slimy in his hands.

He took the paper back to his room, plopping down onto the bed and simply staring at it for several moments. Distantly, he found that the greatest concern immediately coming to mind was whether or not this was the best course of action for the current time. They ended up together in the future, true, but not until 1976. Now, it was 1973, the World Peace Summit was just around the corner, Peter was the juvenile-delinquent son of Charles' friend turned enemy, and Evvie had, for all he knew, ran away for home. To bring this relationship together now might alter the course of the future… but to not do anything about it might alter the course of the future as well…

In the end, he ended up dialing the number. After several moments, Peter answered, _"Hello?"_

"Hey, kid. It's Logan." Logan said. A rush of air left Peter's lungs on the other end of the line, presumably in relief.

"_I've been waiting all day for you to call! What the hell took you so long?"_ Peter asked, sounding offended.

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, contemplating the potential consequences of his actions. Then, he threw all caution to the wind and blurted out, "Evvie's run away from home, Peter."

This time, when the rush of air left Peter's lungs, it sounded like he'd been punched in the gut. It was definitely not the reaction of one who just found out their most hated enemy had gone missing, that much was for sure. _"What the hell do you mean? I mean, are you sure?"_

"Hank was with her. She ran off on him and he couldn't catch her." Logan didn't know why he was telling Peter all of this… only that it seemed to be the right thing to do. "She's who knows where and nobody has any way to find her."

There was a pause, then, _"Did you ever think that she might be going to find her mother?"_

"And why the hell would she want to do that?" Logan asked.

Peter then explained what had happened on their short stint together back at the Pentagon. In between their fights (and leaving out the little bit about the unwanted haircut), they'd managed to have a halfway decent heart-to-heart about their absentee parents. Peter explained that he'd asked Evvie why her father was so overprotective of her. She'd said that it was because her mother hadn't wanted her, and he almost missed out on raising her entirely, because he planned on giving her up for adoption. Continuing on, he explained that she had a slightly idealized idea of her mother, and he had confessed that he, too, perhaps had a bit of an idealized idea of his father.

"_Do you know where her mother is?"_ Logan didn't even want to confess that he hadn't the slightest about _who_ she was, let alone _where_ she was. And how would Evvie now, anyhow? Charles wasn't exactly forthcoming with that kind of information.

"Wish I could say that I did." Turning the note over from the front desk, he wrote down **EVVIE'S MOM?** and circled it several times. "Now, listen, there's something that I have to tell you about. Something about Evvie."

Peter chuckled, honestly seeming amused. _"You mean you want to tell me more than she ran away? I'm not sure my poor heart can take many more surprises."_ Logan smirked. Nothing like a little smart-ass to lighten the mood. But then, more seriously, _"Can I tell you a secret, Logan?"_

And there was something about the boy's tone that made him say, "Yeah, sure."

"_I haven't been able to get her out of my mind since the Pentagon thing._" He said this very softly, as if it were a terrible secret.

"Yeah, there's a reason for that." He shook his head, needing to focus himself. "Peter, there's something that you need to know about Evvie -,"

But he cut off when the door swung open, revealing an incredibly irate Hank. "I refuse to be that man's enabler any longer!" The door slammed closed, and all of the color drained out of Logan's face.

"I'll have to call you back." And then he hung up.

Hank started rifling through the things in his suitcase, finally finding the serum that he had originally created to keep the Beast at bay. Between the little tidbits that Hank had told him, and his own intuition, Logan had put two-and-two together and realized that the Professor was mooching off of the goods and using them to walk. Over time, he'd developed quite a nasty addiction, and he was going to be hankering for another fix soon – or perhaps he already was, and that was what had set off Hank. Logan watched as Hank started throwing things left and right, searching for the serum. And when he finally located it, he hoisted it into the air with a triumphant holler.

He wondered what it was that he was planning on doing, but thought better of asking at the time being. Removing the vials containing the serum from the plastic baggie they were contained in, he threw the glass tubes down onto the hardwood floor. With a sharp, resonant _clank_, they shattered on impact. Tiny glass shards flew in every imaginable direction as the yellowish liquid slowly absorbed into the wooden planks. Logan watched, unashamedly amazed, as Hank breathed heavily, watching as the only thing that kept him looking human soaked into the floorboards. And then, a sort of unwarranted anger bubbled within him. Was he out of his fucking mind?

He went to voice as much, but Hank beat him to it. Voice steely, he said, "Charles is our only chance at finding Evvie. He needs to face his demons." His eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, and Logan could tell that he'd just had _enough _of being blamed for _everything_. "And he needs to face them with a clear mind."

* * *

They'd been driving for what felt like a small sliver of eternity, and Evvie had occasionally dozed-off in the passenger seat. When she was conscious, she was able to discern that they were leaving town – but so much time passed while she was unconscious that she didn't know how far they'd gone, or how much farther they had to go until they reached their destination. When she slept, she dreamed of her father. In the dreams, he seemed so cold, so _alone_. He'd locked himself in the hotel room and was curled on his bed, in unimaginable mental anguish. It was the kind of pain that made the physical ache of his spine dull in comparison. And she could _feel_ the pain as he felt it, and that hurt.

She didn't particularly like the dream – had never liked seeing her father in pain, and hated it even more now, because she had a sneaking suspicion that she had caused it – but seemed to fall right back into it every time she went to sleep. The scene never changed. Everything almost seemed surreal in how still and perfect the surroundings were… but the small, choked, broken sobs leaving the body on the bed shattered the surreal serenity that the frozen scene suggested. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she slept. If Alex noticed, he thankfully didn't utter a word. He stopped the car and she stirred, wiping her eyes and the rest of her tears as she woke. The dream was pushed aside, forgotten.

They'd arrived at a dingy restaurant – the kind that you passed by often, and wondered silently to yourself how they managed to pass their yearly health inspection. It was larger on the inside, Alex explained, and there was an apartment above it. That was where he and the other mutants just out of Vietnam were living. There were two others, he said, but one wasn't around too often, so she wouldn't have to worry about him. The other, he said, was nicknamed "Toad". She frowned, wondering what could have earned him such a unique and… out-of-the-ordinary nickname. He only smiled, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her in through the front door.

He took her over to the window, which was basically just a cut-out overlooking the kitchen, and called out, "Hey, Toad! Come over here a sec, huh?"

A few seconds later, a tall boy made his way over. He would have been somewhat handsome, had it not been for the warts covering his face and the unbecoming black, beady eyes constantly staring you down. "What do you want, Alex?"

"Meet our new boarder – Evangeline Xavier." He showed her off like a model would show off a brand new, top of the line sports car. She blushed hotly, but squirmed uncomfortably at the same time.

"Nice to meet you, Evangel." A fly buzzed by, and his tongue shot out – easily stretching to _at least_ a foot long – and caught it.

Evvie abruptly collapsed into Alex's arms, out cold. Alex smirked. "I think she likes you."

* * *

**A/N: **So, let me just explain – Hank and Charles aren't going to stop being friends or anything like that, but everyone has a point where you just can't push them any further. Hank already feels bad for losing Evvie, and Charles constantly blaming him for it isn't helping anything. That's why he snapped. And yes, by his demons, he means the spinal issue and Evvie's mother. The countdown begins to finding out (officially, 'cause I know you all have suspicions) who her mother really is!


	10. Chapter 9: Home Is A Long Way Away

Alex and Toad relocated Evvie's body to the small living quarters upstairs. The bedroom wasn't very large, but there was a decently sized bathroom and a kitchen (if you could really call it that). In the bedroom, there were three cots on a dusty hardwood floor. An oak dresser, located on the far side of the room, which had three textbook-thick books standing in for a missing front leg, looked to be the victim of a bad refurbishing job. A lava lamp sat on the single windowsill, next to a dingy-looking alarm clock. And there were pillows and blankets scattered everywhere.

They placed her on the cot located under the window, and Alex opened it up to dispel some of the stink of grease that was wafting up from downstairs. Toad went back downstairs to handle the customers and Alex kept vigil over Evvie. She seemed to be sleeping easily, not like the way she was sleeping in the car on the way over. He wondered about what she had been dreaming about. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been pleasant. Reaching down, he moved a stray red lock out from in front of her face, before plopping down on the cot beside her. At this rate, it was bound to be a _long _afternoon.

* * *

When she came too, Alex had just begun to doze off himself, his body angled toward a small, twelve inch television located on top of the dresser. The news was on, or, at least, it _looked_ like the news. There was a heavy snowstorm of white and gray blurring the image on the screen, and the sound coming out was a little fuzzy as well. Sitting up slowly, she rubbed her eyes, trying to remember how she had gotten here and where the hell she was. And then, her eyes fell on Alex. Not really pausing to think it through, she reached out and whacked his foot.

"Holy shit - what the fuck?" He almost jumped out of his skin, the front of his vest burning a dark, violent red as he readied to defend himself against an invisible attacker. He calmed almost immediately when he saw that it was only Evvie. "Holy shit... you can't do that to me, Ronalda."

But Evvie wasn't in the mood to mess around. Her heart was still beating a hundred times a minute and she needed to know where she was _right now_, damn it! "Where the hell am I?"

"You're at our base camp, right now. You passed out after meeting your other roommate, Toad." Alex said nonchalantly.

She took a minute to process this, then, "He's the one with the... the... t-tongue, right?"

The damn, inconsiderate bastard had the nerve to _laugh_ at her. "Yeah, that's just about the best reaction to Toad's mutation _yet_!"

Evvie huffed. Rising up off of the cot, she crossed her arms over her chest and carefully made her way over to the window. Leaning on the windowsill, she pushed herself up on her toes and looked down at the nearly vacant streets below. Her head hurt. It was like someone was taking a hammer to her temple, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Hurriedly yanking the paper-thin white curtains shut, she slid down the wall and pulled her legs into her chest. The darkness helped, but not enough. It was as if clumsy fingers had wormed their way inside of her head.

"You got any Tylenol in this place?" She asked, cracking one eye open and looking at Alex.

"Yeah. But you'll want to take it downstairs. I wouldn't trust the water up here for much more than bathing... and even that can be a stretch sometimes." And then, he elaborated, "The restaurant and the apartment are on two different water filtration systems."

"Good to know. I'll take it downstairs." Alex vanished into the bathroom, but left the door partially ajar. "He's not gonna charge me for the water, is he?"

"Nah. You're part of the family." He returned with two chalky white capsules, and directed her to head downstairs. "What is ours is now yours, Ronalda." He smirked, but she didn't. "When you're done down there, you'll need a change of clothes. We can hook you up."

"Thanks." She'd have to take him up on that later.

Going downstairs, however, was perhaps not the best idea. The clientele that the restaurant catered to were just as greasy and unsavory as the outside of the building suggested they would be. And they were _loud_. Those clumsy fingers were poking and prodding inside of her brain, and in the distance, she could hear a soft, trembling, _terrified_ voice, but it was like a distant echo in the far recesses of her mind, and she didn't give it much credence. She carefully weaved through drunken groups of belligerent muscle-men, avoiding obstacles like fallen stools, fallen drunkards, and shattered glass. It felt like an eternity until she made it to the window.

Upon peering inside, she fought the urge to high-tail it back upstairs and dry swallow the chalky pills. Toad was working feverishly over the food, and all she could think about was that fly from earlier... But he really had seemed to be nice, that little 'quirk' aside, and if she was going to be staying with them for awhile, she'd need to get over her squeamishness sooner rather than later... Pausing for a moment to regroup, she took a deep breath and rang the little bell beside the window. Toad's head shot up and he looked over. When he saw her, a small smile broke out on his face. Quickly, he made his way over to the window.

"What can I do you for, roomie?" He asked. From the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, she was fairly certain that the drama from earlier was forgotten and safely buried in the past. She was determined to make sure that that was where it stayed.

"Can I get a glass of water?" She showed him the two pills in her hand. "I don't really want to choke to death, you know?"

He smiled, and when she really got the chance to look at him and take it in, it actually looked almost... sweet. "Sure thing, roomie." Turning around, he went over to the sink and filled a Dixie cup with water. Handing it over, he finished, "Anything else I can get you?"

Her stomach chose that moment to growl obscenely. She blushed, and he laughed. "I guess I'm a little hungry."

"Well, Miss Evangeline," he handed her a menu, "you've definitely come to the right place."

* * *

Charles was in absolute _agony. _The physical pain from the bullet had resurfaced completely, rendering him unable to move off of the bed. He'd tried screaming for Hank... Erik... Logan... _anyone... _but nobody could hear, and nobody came. And then, the voices had returned. Hundreds of thousands of voices, flooding his brain with information, overwhelming his senses as their anguish, their elation, their pleasure, their hurt became his own. Desperately, he tried wading through the sea of voices, listening for Evvie, calling to her... but it was no use. There were just too many of them.

He was out of practice, undisciplined, and the power, the mutation, it was overwhelming him. He tried to scream again, only this time, produced no sound. A fist came down on the mattress, causing the phone to bounce off and fall onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed, out of his reach. That was when the tears first started to fall. Hot, thick, messy tears matted his tangled brown curls to his cheeks, and he tentatively tried again to sort through the mania raging inside his brain. It was useless. Grabbing at various voices, combing through their minds, he couldn't find his baby girl... or, at least, could not recognize her in his current state.

He had _known_ that this, all of this, was a mistake. They never should have left the Xavier School. There, even if she was locked away from the rest of the world, he at least knew where she was and knew that she was okay. The _not_ knowing... that was almost worse than the unbelievable ache of a thousand lost souls clamoring to make it in a lost world. His little girl was out there somewhere, just as lost as all of the others. He had to find her. If this was the only way - the voices were screaming, and his head felt like someone had stabbed him through the forehead with a white-hot poker.

Everything would be so much easier if he could just _remember_ how to channel it, like he'd done before. But that was the side-effect of pumping himself full of the serum for so long... he _couldn't_ remember. And when had life ever been easy for him? The throng of voices died down once again, and weak, feeble fingers attempted to sort through and cancel out the white noise. It would be so much _easier_ if he could focus in on the voice that he needed, the voice of his baby girl... and for a second, he thought he had her, thought that he was closing in on her voice... and then it faded back into the painful white noise buzzing in his head like a swarm of bees.

And then, just when he was sure that everything couldn't get worse, there was a heavy-handed knock on the door. "Sir?" Charles curled in on himself as much as he could, even if this only made the pain radiating from his back so much worse... "Sir, this is the hotel manager. Are you okay? We've recieved complaints of screaming -,"

The man was going through a divorce - messy, there were kids involved; the wife wanted sole custody but he was fighting for dual - Charles could _hear_ the thoughts racing through his mind, could _feel_ his pain, and couldn't help as another scream tore from his throat. "Go away!"

"Sir, are you okay?" There was that heavy-hand again, this time accompanied by a jiggled doorknob. "Are you in need of medical assistance, sir?"

Frantically grabbing for the nearest pillow, he pressed it over his head and squeezed, trying to block out the _noise_. It was unsuccessful. "What didn't you understand the first time? I said _go away_!" But it was muffled and slurred from underneath the pillow.

"I'm afraid that I can't do that, sir. Now, I'm going to ask that you unlock the door and let me inside." But he didn't honestly think that would happen, did he?

The doorknob shook again, and it sounded like someone was drilling holes into his head. He bit his lip, tasting coppery blood. "_Go away!"_

Silence, then, "I'm going to have to let myself in, sir. I don't want to do this, but you've left me no alternative." There was the scratching sound of a key sliding into a lock, and the tumbler rattling. The door opened then, and the manager let himself inside.

Charles didn't bother peering out from underneath his pillow, but he could _feel _the manager's eyes on him. The manager slowly circled around the bed, and Charles could tell that his thoughts had calmed considerably. But that didn't stop the white noise, like static, in the background. He let out a fluttering breath, again attempting to force clumsy fingers to sort through the noise, separating what was real and present and _important_ from what could simply be described as 'background noise'. And then, he felt a hand touch his side. This time, he couldn't bite back the scream. If possible, the pain _multiplied exponentially. _

Channeling the pain, honing in on it and how it cleared his mind, he grabbed hold of the man's consciousness and forced him to back away. Then, "I'm terribly sorry to have disturbed you, sir. I'll just be on my way now. Your stay will be comped, courtesy of the hotel. Again, sorry to have bothered you." And then he left.

And there. That was good, that felt right. That was the old power coming back to him, coursing through him, reminding him that he was not completely lost in this new mad, terrifying world. The voices calmed a little bit, and he felt a little bit more in control of himself. If only he could somehow find Hank, then all of this would be a horrible, distant memory... but Hank was blocking him, or too far away to be able to be sensed, and Charles wasn't strong enough yet to pursue him. So he tried for Evvie one more time, knowing the unique pattern of her mind like the back of his mind. but his efforts were fruitless.

* * *

It was late that night when the headache finally died down, and she couldn't help but feel as if something was missing. "Take these." She was called back to the present as Toad tossed her some spare clothes. "We'll take you clothes shopping tomorrow over lunch."

"Are you sure that you can do that? I mean... isn't lunch a busy time for you?" She asked worriedly.

"Ev... we _own_ the restaurant. No worries, no worries. Just get some good sleep, okay?" She looked a little uneasy, suddenly realizing that she'd be spending the night in the same room as two men. "You don't have to worry, hon. You're safe here. I wouldn't hurt a _fly_."

She flinched, remembering the fly from earlier. "Funny." But she did feel better.

She went into the bathroom to change. Closing the door behind her, she looked at the clothes that Toad had given her. They consisted of an over-sized black t-shirt with a prism on the front, deflecting light into the different colors of the rainbow. Beneath, in all capital letters, were the words PINK FLOYD. Her favorite band - she smiled softly, before peeling off her jogging outfit and leaving it on the bathroom floor. There wasn't anywhere else to put it, anyhow. Slipping on the shirt, she wasn't surprised when it almost reached her knees. And then she re-entered the bedroom, not surprised to find the others in bed and already dozing off.

She slipped into her own cot, wondering if this was only a temporary thing and if she would be kicked out when their other roommate decided to come home. Upon rethinking that, however, she didn't think that Alex would let that happen. Looking up at the ceiling, she found that sleep had decided to evade her. For no particular reason, she found herself longing for those probing fingers that had clumsily wormed their way inside of her brain. No matter how painful they'd been, they'd reminded her of something special... something _loving_. They'd reminded her of home.


	11. Chapter 10: Smile

Evvie woke before her companions had even begun to stir, and simply laid there for a moment, enjoying the complete and utter silence that accompanied such a beautiful and tranquil morning. Such mornings had been few and far between when the Xavier School had been operating at full capacity, and the mornings after it had closed had been far from relaxing. Evvie could recall many a morning where she'd woken to her father's hoarse screams, and had come running with medicine to numb the pain while Hank administered the serum that would 'help' him feel better.

This morning was that clichéd, once in a lifetime occurrence, where everything was so perfectly silent that you could hear the birds chirping a half a mile away, hear the cries of the crickets die off in the distance, and hear your own thoughts ring loud and clear inside of your head. And as she lay there, silently appreciating the beauty of that miraculous morning, that dull throbbing in her temples returned. Her eyes slipped closed, agitation causing the corner of her lip to twitch. The perfect morning had just been ruined by the emergence of a damned headache, and just that fast, it was categorized with all of the other subpar mornings.

Drunkenly, she stumbled off of her little cot and brushed out the t-shirt that she'd slept in. She assumed that her new roommates would have Tylenol in the medicine cabinet, but the task would be making it there in one piece. The two other cots were strewn haphazardly across the floor of the bedroom, with bodies fanned out in all directions. Although it was evident from their snoring that both were completely unconscious, she suddenly felt a debilitating wave of self-consciousness at the shortness of the borrowed t-shirt and the visibility of her body. Absently, she pulled down on the ends of the t-shirt, quickly stepping over the bodies and making her way to the bathroom.

She flipped on the light and closed the door behind her, immediately noticing that a pair of jeans and an oversized white t-shirt had been set out for her, with a note on top indicating that these were to hold her over until they could go shopping later. Deciding that she would dress after handling her headache, she opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the familiar bottle. Grabbing two pills, she returned the bottle. She contemplated using the water in the bathroom for only a few seconds, before thinking better of it and turning to head downstairs. They were still knocked out cold when she reemerged from the bathroom.

* * *

It was a little easier that morning. He'd taken two Tylenol and was currently downing a stiff cup of coffee, no sugar. He felt a little better, but still looked ghastly. When the others came to the hotel restaurant that morning, Hank refused to look at him, which he couldn't fault him for. While he was still hurting over the loss of his daughter, and was currently pushing through unimaginable pain as the full extent of his power returned to him, he realized that he'd been too harsh on Hank. He'd needed a scapegoat and Hank had been the unfortunate victim. He didn't think he could say it to Hank's face yet… but the realization was slowly brewing and taking root.

"You look like hell, man." Leave it to Logan to point out the blatantly obvious in the most obnoxious, in-your-face manner possible. He pushed another cup in Charles' direction, realizing the professor was running a little low.

"I have been… attempting to locate Evvie. The process has been particularly strenuous. She has strong mental blocks in place and knows better than anyone what it takes to keep me out… even if she doesn't know she's doing it."

"But that means that you were at least able to tell that she's okay, right?" If she was sick or hurt, she wouldn't be able to keep the barriers in place, even if it was only being done subconsciously.

There was silence from the other man. Then, "Does it matter if I know that she's okay?" And then, after a second, he went on to explain, "In my mind, I realize that she is alright. But my heart… seeing is believing, to use a horrible cliché."

Logan was about to continue, but Hank chose that moment to come to the table, a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon, French toast, and blueberries in hand. Charles looked at the array and felt his stomach turn. The pain was making him horribly nauseous, and the sudden bombardment of such heavy scents threatened to make him revisit the single cup of coffee that he'd had since awakening three and a half hours earlier. Absently, he wondered what kind of breakfast Evvie was sitting down to. Not knowing how much money she had on her (it couldn't be very much), that could be anything from a three course meal to a cup of orange juice. His stomach turned again.

Hank picked up a piece of bacon and bit off the end, grease staining his fingers. "I heard that Alex is back in town. He and Toad opened up a restaurant – I'd be reluctant to try the food, but I know that Alex and Evvie were really close. Maybe he knows something."

"Toad?" Logan thought back to the amphibious mutant that had attacked the train that he'd been on with Rogue. "Why would Alex Summers be hanging around Toad?" Logan knew very little about the younger Toad.

Hank shrugged. "Alex and Evvie kinda used to be a thing way back when, before the war. He wrote her for the first few months he was deployed, saying that it was likely he'd only be away for twelve months or so. Unfortunately, the mutant regiment was treated much differently than the human regiments."

The Vietnam War was the first war to use an approximately twelve month rotation, where soldiers would be discharged after twelve months of service. This constant turnover meant continuously adjusting to new superior officers and constantly training incoming soldiers. The mutant regiment was different, however. Because of their unique capabilities, the mutant regiment was kept for the majority of the war. Their powers were tested to their absolute limits, and then, at the end of the war, they were to be shipped off for 'experimentation'. Raven saved them before this could occur, however.

Hank explained that Alex had written her for the first few months of his service, promising that he'd be returning home soon. After the sixth month, though, the letters abruptly stopped coming. She wrote him frantically, worried that something horrible had happened. He never answered. Evvie had locked up the letters in a trunk at the foot of her bed and never mentioned them, so it would be interesting to see how she responded to finding out that he was alive. Logan, surprised, could only nod. He'd never heard about a fling between Evvie and Alex, and now, suspected that Evvie's feelings for Hank were only a rebound from something much larger.

Charles tried a tentative, "Do you have any means of getting into contact with Alex?"

Hank was silent for a moment, and for a moment, Logan was worried that Hank wasn't planning on answering. Then, "I know where the restaurant is. We can pay a visit before we leave town."

The tension bled out of the room and for the first time in the last twenty four hours, everyone could take a deep breath. "When do we leave?"

* * *

She was surprised that the clothes actually fit a lot better than she had imagined they would. Her belt was buckled a little tightly, but for the most part, everything had a very comfortable, relaxed fit to it. She wore it with a pair of ratty old sneakers, her shortened hair held up by a bright yellow scrunchie. Currently, she was in the mall with Alex and Toad. They'd already been to two stores in the mall, and had stopped at another store on the way there to buy a suitcase. Toad explained that they'd already made the necessary preparations to take off for several weeks so that they could leave to hunt down her mother as soon as they were done shopping.

"Thank you guys so much for doing this for me. I don't think you know how much this means to me." Evvie said, a bright smile on her face. That horrible headache had gone away, and her spirits were much higher now.

"I honestly can't believe the old geezer never told you more about your mom." Alex shook his head. "You know that that is why your power continues to grow, right? It is because of your mother's mutation. First, you could just stimulate brain cells. Now, you can stimulate_ anything_."

"I just thought that that was normal. Dad had said that it was normal for power to grow and develop over time."

"Normal to grow and develop over time? Yes. Normal to change from one core power to broader horizons altogether? Not exactly." Alex shrugged. "Your mother's mutation is, for lack of a better term, shape-shifting."

"Which means that it can be expected for your mutation to continue to 'shape-shift' until it eventually takes its final shape." Toad supplied, "Whatever that might be."

Evvie's hands clenched from within the leather gloves. She could remember when they'd first discovered that all it would take was a simple brush of her hand against another's skin to overstimulate nerves and brain cells, and that the longer she touched someone, the higher the risk of casualty. If her power was mutating as they had said that it would, did that mean that she was stronger? Did that mean that now, with the simple brush of a hand, she could make someone fall to the ground, dead? She was immensely bothered by the idea of hurting or killing anyone, especially due to something that was so much a part of her, something she couldn't, at the time, control.

"What is she like?" Evvie asked abruptly, trying to get her mind off of her growing powers.

"Your mother?" Alex asked. Evvie nodded. "She's… very committed to the mutant cause. She's fighting for a day where mutants will be equal and not have to be ostracized for who they are. That's why she's taking on Trask."

"Trask?" Why did that name sound so familiar?

"He's a scientist that's doing research that involves doing experiments on mutants. Recently, he's been trying to get the government to approve a new project called the 'Sentinel Project'. He hasn't been able to get approval yet, but the testing on mutants has been to further his research for the project."

Distantly, Evvie recalled Logan telling her about the Sentinels in the future, and how Raven would murder Trask, but end up getting captured in the process. Her DNA would be harvested and used to perfect the Sentinels, and from there, they would set out on their mission to exterminate all of the mutants (and all those that supported or tried to protect them) from the earth. Could it be possible that this 'Raven' was her mother? It seemed rather likely. She tucked this idea away in the back of her mind to review later, not wanting to jump the gun and perpetuate the wrong conclusion. There was still much that she didn't know about the situation.

They entered a little store and finished their shopping. Alex and Toad were remarkably generous with the scant money that they earned running the restaurant, and poured at least two weeks' earnings into purchasing her new clothes. She bought two pairs of bell-bottoms, crop tops in assorted colors, a maxi dress, a mini dress, a few skirts, and a new pair of shoes. Even with the other things that she'd purchased throughout the day, they all knew that it wouldn't so much as put a dent in her new suitcase. And that was okay. They needed just enough to hold them over, but not so much that it became overbearing.

And then, not really speaking to anyone in particular, she set her eyes on a row of hair accessories and said, "I've always wanted to ask her why I wasn't good enough."

Toad and Alex shared a look, before Alex waved her over. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

Peter sat in the driver's seat of his car, staring at his house with absolutely no desire to go in. He had a sketch pad pressed against the steering wheel, and there was a picture on the dashboard which Logan had conveniently left in the car when he'd handed the keys over to Peter. It was, ironically enough, a wedding photo. But that wasn't what made the picture fascinating to Peter. What drew his attention was that the bride and groom bore an uncanny resemblance to himself and Evvie, and that someone had written the date **1976** on the back of the picture in permanent marker.

He didn't think that Logan had left the picture behind on purpose. It definitely wasn't Logan's picture, because that definitely wasn't Logan standing up at the altar, but the picture was undoubtedly his, because he seemed to really be pushing for him and Evvie to be together. Peter simply couldn't take his eyes off of the photo. Evvie looked gorgeous standing at that altar, her hair grown out long and falling to her waist in thin braids. Her dress was a startling white against her tanned skin (he would later discover that her bachelorette party had been in Cancun). And her smile… it made him feel like the happiest guy on earth, even if he wasn't actually getting married to her.

He brought the picture down, pinning it to the top of the sketch pad. He'd been contemplating what to draw (it seemed like an eternity since he'd last picked up his sketch pad and pencil), but now it became abundantly clear. He wanted to draw her smile. And so he carefully mapped out the contours of her face, magnifying them so that they took center stage on the page instead of sharing the spotlight with someone else. He tilted her head slightly as well, fo00rcing her to face him. It only occurred to him once that, with so much time since he'd last touched a sketch pad, he might not do her justice… but he pushed the thought aside and pushed forward.

When his mother came out to check on him an hour and a half later, worried that he hadn't come inside after returning from his date with Crystal, she found him still inside the clunker, working over his sketch of Evvie's face. With the porch light on, she could see the faintest hint of the sketch, and she smiled. She'd never really met Evvie before, but she'd seen her at a distance and already liked her infinitely more than she liked Crystal. And it seemed that her boy was smitten with her too. So she'd let him sit in the car for a little while longer. After all, it wasn't like he had school tomorrow…


End file.
